


Lacrimosa

by stolemyoverture



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Eventual Romance, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:01:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28693635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stolemyoverture/pseuds/stolemyoverture
Summary: Mournful that day.When from the ashes shall rise,a guilty man to be judged.-It's two years after the war, and Hermione has been tracking down Draco Malfoy for months. He is one of the last people on their list of death eaters, and she will stop at nothing to find him. To make sure he pays for the pain he caused, and for the evil he supported.And as the obsession with revenge tears away at Hermione, her views on morality are put into question. Who determines good and evil? Does everyone have the right to redemption?-Ongoing story. Will be quite dark at times, with some religious imagery.
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

_**Part 1, Chapter 1** _

A cloud of dust billowed up from the floor as they apparated into the room.

They were inside a small, rundown stone building on the outskirts of an old farm plot. Probably used to be some sort of shed for gardening supplies, or extra dry food storage. There was light to be found. Cold air whistled in through the cracks of the singular window.

“ _Lu_ -” a voice started to say, but Hermione held up her hand, silencing them with a shake of her head. Her finger pointed down towards the nearly imperceivable outline of a trap door on the dusty floorboards.

After a few meaningful glances, Hermione took a step towards it, wand raised slightly in front of her. She felt the rest of her team moving into position, the swish of the fabric of their clothes being the only indicator any movement had happened. Perfect.

With a sharp flick of Hermione’s wand, the door opened in a shock of movement, the sound ringing throughout the room.

Hermoine was the first to take a step towards it. This was her mission, after all.

As her head cleared the entrance, the sound of a raspy voice rose up from the depths of the secret room. “ _Stupefy_!”

Hermione ducked back just in time. The three wizards behind her moved forward, ready for a duel. Nervous energy made the room feel heavy.

Then, just as they were about to move forward, the familiar sound of apparition came from the depths. Crack!

Hermione let out a desperate groan. “We were supposed to put in place the anti-apparition as soon as we arrived! What the hell happened?” She spun around, shooting all of them incredulous glares. “We were so close this time. Right under our fucking feet. Literally. Under our feet.”

They looked sheepishly at anywhere besides her face. The group was young, and very new to the order. She quickly realized that yelling wouldn’t do anyone good right now. She softened her face, but kept her tone firm.

“Never mind. We move forward. We’ll find him again, I know it. I can sense him getting weaker. Did you hear his voice? He sounds near death.”

The wizards nodded in agreement. Hermione let a few beats of meaningful silence hang in the air before she continued. Nervous eyes watched her with a mix of fear and adoration.  
“I’ll stop at nothing to catch him. And honestly, I’m almost at the point where I don't care if we bring him in dead or alive.” A smirk played at her lips. “Chins up everyone. We’re going to give Draco Malfoy what he deserves. You have my word. Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

__

“Minerva’s invited us out for a drink tonight. Do you want to come along?” Ron stood in the doorway to the kitchen at the Burrow, his face red and sweaty from the afternoon Quidditch match.

“Where at?”

“Some muggle pub. She says a break from all things magical could do us some good...and also something about craving questionable, watered-down lager. I don’t know about her sometimes.”

Hermione laughed despite her drab mood. “Yeah, she’s full of surprises. Anyway, I’ll think about it. I’m not quite in the mood now but I might change my mind.”

A floorboard squeaked as Ron shifted his weight awkwardly. Hermione knew without looking up that he was watching her with concern. He had been doing that a lot lately. Everyone had.

“Alright then. I’ll come find you again before we leave. S’later…” The front door closed with a loud thud as Ron made his way back outside. Hermione felt a little guilty for brushing off her friend, but only a little. There was simply too much on her mind.

Yesterday had been the third time Draco Malfoy had slipped from their grasp. They’ve been tracking him for a little over half a year. It had taken them months to get even the slightest clue as to where he was. That was impressive in it’s own right. There weren’t many death eaters left now, which meant he was most likely travelling with a very small group, or, as Hermione was beginning to suspect, completely alone. That made their failed attempts at capture even more frustrating. How long could one person evade an entire movement? He had practically the entire wizarding community of England looking out for him. Waiting for him to slip up.

Hermione had very willingly taken up the role to lead this capture. Draco Malfoy was her project. A loose end from the war that she was determined to tie up herself.

So, as the rest of her friends and colleagues were transitioning back into a normal life-that is, a life without war, without enemies, without constant fear and stress- Hermione remained stuck in the past. She couldn’t move forward until Draco Malfoy was punished for his actions and involvement. She couldn’t let him get away. She simply couldn’t go on until he faced justice.

Those vengeful thoughts were playing on a loop in her mind that morning. After Ron left, she sat at the kitchen table for a few more minutes, considering the half-empty bowl of oatmeal before finishing it off in forceful bites.

Another set of footsteps sounded from the hallway, and moments later Harry rounded the corner. “Oh, hey Hermione. I’ve been looking for you. Apparently we’re all going out to-”

“Ron’s already told me. I’m not sure if I’m going yet. I’m a little in my head at the moment.”

“When aren’t you?” She knew that Harry had meant it in a joking way, but there was an implication in the question that Hermione didn’t miss.

“You’re right,” she smiled for the both of them. “I can’t really focus on anything else until I finish this. It wouldn’t feel right.”

Harry’s face went through a mix of expressions. She knew he had a lot to say, but he wouldn’t say all of it, more for her sake.

“I understand.”

She knew he did. Probably more than anyone ever would. He had his big adventure. His big moment, his ultimate test of self. He went through the obsession, the doubt, the determination, the frustration. The only difference was that he had succeeded. He passed his text. He won.

Hermione hasn’t won yet. Harry would understand perfectly how much that was killing her inside.

The muffled sound of Mr. Weasley shouting excitedly from outside jerked Hermione back to attention. It took her a moment to realize she hadn’t rescinded to Harry yet.

“Okay, I’m going.”

“To the pub?!”

“Yes.”

“Fantastic!” He turned abruptly and joined the others outside. After a few moments, a chorus of voices started chanting from the makeshift Quidditch pitch.

“ _Hermione! Hermione! Hermione! Pub! Pub! Pub_!”

She grinned, listening to her name being shouted by her friends. It felt good. She left the kitchen and went to join them, running through the lush grass that surrounded the burrow. The late summer air was humid. No wind to move the hot air around, and thick clouds were moving in quickly. Sweat had already begun to pepper her shoulders. Not the ideal weather, but Hermione felt particularly happy about it nonetheless as she ran out to join her friends.

“ _Me! Me! Me! Pub! Pub! Pub!_ ”

Harry, Ron, George, and Mr. Weasley scooped her up (rather messily), and propped her up on their shoulders as they did a little victory lap.

Hermione enjoyed a few moments of that uninterrupted joy before a thought came creeping back to the front of her attention.

_This is why you have to find Draco Malfoy. He almost took this away from you. He took it away from so many other people._

___

Despite her previous resignations, Hermione had a great time out with everyone. It was a wonderful group of people that night. Minerva, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Neville, George, Harry, Ron, and Hermione all grouped noisily around 2 square tables in the back corner of the pub. It was a dim, slightly grimy little place with stained dark green carpet, and wood paneling covering every wall. The inside smelled faintly of frying oil, and not so faintly of sweat. The drinks were cheap. It was wonderful.

The topic of Hogwarts came up during the second round.

“You know who I miss the most? Professor Binns.”

“Shut up, Ron.” George and Hermione say at the same time.

“Seriously. I respect him for being an unbelievably boring man. After all of our excitement over the last 2 years, I would really appreciate a lifestyle like that.”

“Would it be considered a lifestyle if he's dead?”

“George!” Mrs. Weasley swats him on the shoulder.

“You can come see him, if you like. He’s still there. You know, I’m not sure he even realizes there was a battle at Hogwarts.” Minerva said plainly, causing a round of laughter to go around the group. “You really should consider a visit. There are many professors who would be happy to see you all. Even you, George.” The headmistress fought back a grin.

George scoffed in fake disgust. “You couldn’t pay me to go back to that place.”

Ron jumped in. “You could pay me.”

Another round of laughter. Hermione wiped a single tear of happiness away from the corner of her eye.

As they were all leaving, Mr. Weasley pulled Hermione away from the group discreetly. “I wanted to tell you earlier, but I told myself I would wait until the night was over, give you some time to have fun.”

She knew instinctively. “He’s been spotted again already?”

Mr. Weasley sighed quietly. “Yes. Probably. Most likely. I heard news this afternoon from a friend of mine in the Ministry who likes to fish in Teignmouth. He thinks he saw Malfoy getting onto a barge. We’re tracking it now. We have about 12 hours to get on there before it arrives at it’s next stop, and we assume Malfoy will be moving again after that.”

“Give me a couple hours, I’ll be ready.” Hermione figured she could get back to the Burrow, have a quick cold shower to sober up a bit, and have at least a little time to prepare. As much as she wanted to leave right that second, she needed to be sure she was fully ready. She couldn’t mess up this time. The thought burned inside her. “Who else?”

“I already talked to Neville, he agreed to help if you were up for it. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to come along.”

“Mr. Weasley, I-” Hermione was surprised. Arthur hadn’t gone out on any missions in nearly a year. Once things started settling into place, Molly insisted that he stay out of the action. He took on more of a mentor role, helping behind the scenes as much as possible. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. I’ve quite missed the action, truthfully. Plus, I have a good feeling about this time, and it would be particularly rewarding to see him caught, don’t you think?”

Arthur Weasley has never liked the Mafoy family in any capacity. He despised them even before the war. He probably wanted to see the last free Malfoy burn almost as much as Hermione did.

She gave him an understanding nod. “Yes. I think that, too. Tell Neville to meet us outside the Burrow at exactly-” she glanced down at her watch, “-1:15. Two hours from now. Thank you, Mr. Weasley.”

He clasped her shoulder. “No, thank you.” They stood in silence for a few moments. Mr. Weasley bounced on the balls of his feet and gave her a big grin. “I’m actually a little bit nervous ,if you can believe that. It’s been awhile. Are you nervous?”

Hermione felt the energy in her fingertips. The end of this was so close. She could feel it. “No, I’m excited.”


	2. Part 1, Chapter 2

They apparated directly into the captain’s cabin at 1:27am. It was dark outside of the large boat, and they could feel the unease of the sea rather than see it. Not a full blown storm yet, but enough to rock the boat slowly against the waves. The captain, an older, haggard man with deep lines all over his face, jumped up from his seat when they appeared. He reached for what they assumed was some kind of weapon from under his chair. 

Without missing a beat, Hermione pointed her wand directly at his forehead. “ _Immobulus_.”His body tensed immediately, eyes going wide with shock and horror. 

“We’re not here to hurt you.” Hermione spoke quickly and quietly. Draco was smart, he probably already knew they were there. Time was of the essence. “There’s a man on board your ship right now. Tall, very blonde, probably quite rude. Do you know who I’m talking about? Blink once for yes and twice for no.”

The man closed his eyes once. 

“Do you know where that man is?” 

Another blink. 

“I’m going to release you now. If you reach for your weapon again...well, I think you know what will happen. Will you be cooperative?”

Mr. Weasley and Neville stood behind Hermione, one on her left, one on her right. The sound of waves lapping at metal surrounded them. 

One more deliberate blink from the man. Hermione motioned silently with her wand, and his body slumped forward. 

“I’m not surprised you’re here for him.” His voice matched his rugged appearance. “I had a feeling there was something off about him, this man you’re looking for. I could smell the crazy on him.”

“I’m sure you could.” Hermione smiled at the man, but kept her wand at the ready. “Lead the way, please.”

They left the cramped room and headed down into the belly of the large fishing vessel. The lights flickered on the ceiling ominously as the floor beneath them swayed from the rough waters. The captain was at the front, with Hermione following right behind him. Arthur and Nevile hung back a few paces, keeping an eye out behind them with their wands at the ready. A metallic groaning echoed throughout the boat. The lights went out completely, throwing them into darkness. 

The whole group stopped. Hermione felt two hands grab her shoulders-Neville and Mr. Weasley. Hermione was reminded of what Arthur had told her just before leaving. “ _No matter what-we stick together. At all times. I’m not taking any chances, Hermione. Right?_ ”

A jet of light appeared in front of them. It was the captain, shining his flashlight at them. He motioned with the beam of light, directing them towards a short descending staircase. 

At the bottom of the staircase, there was a small, unassuming, solid metal door. 

The lights suddenly sputtered back to life, illuminating everyone’s nervous expressions. The captain, looking downright terrified, simply gestured at the door again before scooting out of the way and pinning himself against the side of the wall.

Hermione glanced back at her friends. 

They nodded. They were ready.

A heat was growing in Hermione’s chest. The fire of revenge, the flames of her obsession. The pure _need_. Her knuckles had turned white from the death grip on her wand. Deep within, she could feel her magic trying to claw its way out. It wanted this just as much as she did. 

She took a quick breath, raising her wand. She could sense two more wands being raised behind her.

“ _Bombarda_!”

The door was reduced to scraps. Hermione surged forward, knowing she had mere seconds to get in there before Draco could react. She barreled through the doorway, getting rid of the dust and debris from the small explosion with a flick of her wand. The inside of the room came into view.

A long, dark frame with a shock of light hair was at the opposite side of the room, with its wand pointed directly at the wall. 

Another explosion, but this one much larger. A huge chunk of the boat dislodged from the wall. Water immediately began to pour into the room. They must have been right at water level. Hermione watched in horror as the increasingly violent waves crashed against the side of the boat, slowly filling up the room. It was already at her ankles.

“ _Expelliarmus_!” A raspy voice screamed from the dark figure. 

Hermione dodged it just in time, but the spell hit Neville. His wand popped out of his hand and sunk beneath the rising water. He cursed loudly and dropped to the floor, searching for it.

“ _Stupefy_!” Hermione countered, voice shrill. She couldn’t risk a spell that would make their situation worse and widen the hole. 

Draco dodged that spell too, but just barely. It hit the wall behind his ear with a loud _ping_!

For just a split second, as he was turning towards the hole in the wall, Hermione saw his face. It was the first time she had seen him up close since the battle at Hogwarts. He looked almost unrecognizable.

His face was so gaunt, with the skin stretched thin against his sharp features. He looked so tired, and yet his eyes...the only word that came to Hermione’s mind when seeing them was...manic. She thought back on what the Captain had said. _I could smell the crazy on him._

Those deranged eyes narrowed at Hermione, and she knew it was an expression of sudden recognition. He paused at the hole in the wall for a split second. 

“Hermione Granger?” His voice was different, too. He didn’t sound like the annoying school bully she remembered. He sounded worn. His eyes flicked past her, stopping at Neville and Mr. Weasley. A flash of something went across his features. To Hermione, he almost looked relieved, which didn’t make any sense.

In the tiny pause after he spoke, Mr. Weasley called out from behind Hermione, and a red light shot past her shoulder and towards Malfoy. He dodged it again before putting a bubble-head charm on himself and leaping through the hole and out into the middle of the sea.

“ **NO**!” Hermione screamed, rage welling up inside her. She ran towards the hole, ready to do the same and go after him. She saw his blonde head breach the surface. He turned one last time and found her eyes once more before disappearing beneath the cresting waves. Taunted her. 

A firm hand grabbed Hermione’s arm, yanking her back.

“No, Hermione.” Arthur held on tight.

Time seemed to stop as the realization that Draco Malloy had escaped her yet again hit her. It was a horrible, paralyzing sensation. Hermione felt as if her chest was caving in on itself.

“ **LET ME GO**.” She thrashed in his grasp. 

“Hermione, it's too dangerous.”

“ **I DON’T CARE. I NEED TO-** ”

“What we need to do now is help fix this man’s boat before we all sink. Come on, Hermione.” He spoke to her as calmly as possible. “Judging by the shape he was in, I think his chances are pretty slim out there anyway. Apparating would certainly be very difficult. Perhaps lethal.”

“I don’t want Draco Malfoy to die out in the middle of the ocean. I want to be his demise. I want him to know it was me who sealed his fate.” Hermione felt the cold trickle of failure creeping up her skin. Again. She was getting _so_ sick of that feeling.

“I know, Hermione.” Arthur brought her into an embrace. She felt Neville’s hand on her back, too. “I know.” They held fast to her, and said nothing more.

Hermione allowed one angry tear to drop before continuing on. She looked down at her legs. The rising water was already up to her knees. A spare lifejacket floated by, bumping into the wall. “Fine. Let’s fix this godforsaken boat and get out of here.”

As Neville and Arthur worked on expelling the water from the room and patching up the hole, Hermione went back to the staircase. The old man was standing at the very top, watching the events unfold with worry. 

“Did you get him?” He called down quietly to her.

The innocent question caused the rage to flood back in, making her fingertips numb. Her wand arm raised, tip pointed lazily at the captain’s forehead. 

She tried to think of anything but her parents. “ _Obliviate_.” 

Hermione wondered if they would recognize her even if they weren’t charmed. 


	3. Part 1, Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dark!Hermione makes an appearance.

A tall figure in black stood at the edge of a forest. 

The edges of the figure ebbed and flowed slightly, never fully materializing. 

Hermione took a step forward, and the figure broke into two. Her mother and father gazed upon her with cold, almost inhuman expressions. 

_ You shouldn’t be here,  _ Hermione tried to verbalize, but her words didn't come out. They just bounced around inside of her head. “ _ You’re not safe here. Not yet. Please…” _

The figures wavered slightly before reforming, snapping back into one. It was a taller, thinner figure. Vaguely malicious. It raised an arm, pointing a long finger at Hermione.

_ “When the accursed have been condemned, _

_ And doomed to the flames of woe, _

_ Call me among the blessed. _ ”

Hermione felt paralyzed as she listened to the ghostly voice. A cold wind ripped through the air, blowing her hair into her face. When the wind finally settled and she could see clearly, the figure appeared even closer in front of her. The frayed edges of Draco Malfoy swayed menacingly. It once again opened it’s terrible mouth.

“ _ I kneel in front of you with submission, _

_ My heart as spent as ashes, _

_ Have care for my final fate. _ ”

The line of trees behind the figure moved violently against the forceful wind. Farther off, in the depths, it looked as if the forest was beginning to burn red. 

_ Your final fate belongs with me, and only me. _ Hermione thought as hard as she could, willing the figure to hear her thoughts.  _ Look upon me with fear, for I have no capacity for mercy upon the evil. _

Smoke rose from the trees, and Hermione felt intense heat at her face. 

The figure began to morph again. It changed from one figure to the next at a rapid fire pace. It was Fred Weasley, laying on the ground. It was Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks, holding hands in death. 

Hermione could only watch in horror. In grief.

It was Dobby, bleeding from the chest. It was Cedric Diggory, with his dead eyes open and staring. 

Hermione tried to scream, but nothing came out. She screamed and screamed and screamed. Into a void. Into nothing. 

“WAKE UP!”

Harry’s concerned face loomed over her. She reached out and grabbed his shirt collar, if only to test that she could. That he was real. That he was alive.

“Merlin, Hermione. Are you alright?” 

“M’fine…” Her throat felt dry and irritated. “Was I just…?”

“Screaming bloody murder? Yes.” 

She was sunk deep into a plush, corduroy armchair at The Burrow. It had always been her favorite spot in the house. A great place for reading and deep thoughts. She was sad to feel it tainted by such a horrible nightmare. “I’m sorry. What time is it? Did I wake everyone?”

“Just me. You know I’m a light sleeper.” Harry was always so good at making light of a situation. Good at making you feel sane, even when that’s the furthest from what you felt. “Want something to drink? I’m on my way to the kitchen. We can talk about the mission if you’d like.” 

“Oh, I don’t know, Harry…” Hermione dropped her gaze and focused in on the carpet. She couldn’t help but to feel embarrassed by her failure. “I still feel so...I don’t know.”

He nodded once. “Fine. I’ll go make us some tea regardless. If you change your mind and want to talk, great. If not, we can sit in silence awkwardly together. How’s that sound?”

A sleepy voice cut through the air. “Really? Without me? Unbelievable.” Ron padded into the room, eyes still half open.“I thought I heard some girlish yelling. Was that you, Harry?”

“Yeah, but thankfully Hermione was here to save me. As usual.” 

Harry went into the kitchen while Ron sat down cross legged on the floor in front of Hermione. He gave her the rundown of the rest of the night after they had gotten back from the pub. “I was sitting with Ms. McGonagall for nearly _two_ _hours_ -she’s quite the talker with a few drinks in her. Hilarious, really.”

“We’ve been out of Hogwarts for two years, Ron. You can call her Minvera, you know. I think she actually prefers it.”

He blanched. “Nah-never. She’ll always be Ms. McGonagall to me.”

Hermione started to disagree, but she had to admit he had a point.

Harry returned with three full mugs and handed them out. They all sat in silence for a few moments, blowing at the hot liquid and taking tiny sips. As Harry had predicted, it was slightly awkward. 

Hermione sighed in resignation. “Okay, fine!” She told them about the failed mission, but approached it from an outsider’s perspective. She was afraid that if she remembered it from her point of view, things would go south mentally for her very quickly. Harry and Ron didn’t need to hear about how useless she felt. They didn’t need her to tell them how much it was affecting her, or how much time she spent wallowing in her mistakes. They knew her well enough to know that already, and they wouldn’t force her to iterate it. 

By the time their mugs were empty, the sunrise was already peeking through the window. An orange glow settled across the room. Hermione watched the dust floating in the air for a few moments, reflecting on the previous night. On the last 6 months. On the last 2 years. It was all too much. She felt as if her mind was crumbling in on itself.

She finally dislodged herself from the depth of the armchair, grabbed Ron and Harry’s mugs, and headed towards the kitchen to take care of them. Before she went up to her spare bedroom, she popped her head back through the doorway and looked at her friends one more time. 

“I love you guys.” She heard the sadness in her own voice. 

It wasn’t enough to just love someone- not anymore. Actions spoke louder than words. She would prove to them just how much they meant to her. How much all the others lost to tragedy had meant to her. 

_

Hermione slept for almost two days. She would get up every so often to eat a bit, but her body refused to do more than that. Rather, her mind refused. It needed a long rest. 

So, by the time the corporeal fox patronus appeared in her bedroom, she was ready. It was Seamus Finnigan, with very important news. 

Seconds later, she had apparated into his house. 

Seamus lived right outside of Hogsmeade in a dilapidated little cottage on a large plot of land. He had been part of their core group of Order members for a long time after the battle of Hogwarts, but like most of the others, had taken steps to start settling down and getting on with his life. 

He was waiting for her, sitting quietly at his kitchen table. “Hermione. Good to see you again.”

“You as well. You have news for me?” Her voice hitched with excitement.

“I’ve seen him. With my own eyes. Looked like a bloody corpse, but there’s no mistaking that sour, pointy fucking face of his.” He spat the words out. 

“Where, Seamus?”

“Walking down the road, plain as day. Making his way in towards the mountains, it looked like. I reckon you’d be able to catch him if you left now, it was only just a few minutes ago. I got ahold of you as soon as I saw…”

It was almost too good to be true. Hermione sensed a bit of unease. “Just walking down the road? Seamus, are you sure that was him? Why would he-?”

“Hermione, I’ve no idea. But it was him, I swear it. ”

“Right. Okay. Thank you, Seamus. I’ll let you know what happens.” It was an inappropriate farewell for an old friend, but a necessary one. Hermione had to act fast.

She apparated back to The Burrow and immediately went to grab a warm jacket and her charmed beaded handbag. It had become sort of a good luck charm to her over the years. She wouldn’t necessarily need all the items inside of it, but having it with her felt good all the same. 

Just as she was about to apparate back, Harry burst into her room. 

“Hermione, where are you-?” His eyes panned down to her bag in her hand. “Again? Tell me you’re not going by yourself?”

“Harry, please. I don’t have time. Please don’t stop me.” 

“I’ll come. Give me a moment and I’ll-”

“No, Harry.”

He looked shocked. He sputtered at her. “It’s out of the question. I can’t just let you...by yourself...the risk is just too big, Hermione.”

“This is something I need to do by myself.” She lowers her voice and drops his gaze. “ _ For _ myself. Please.”

Harry could see the desperation in her eyes. She knew he understood what she was feeling at that moment. He had been through it so many times. His expression hardened,mouth forming a tight line. “Wait here. Just a second, I promise.” He raced out of the room. Hermione waited, her breathing becoming more labored with every passing second. 

Harry returned promptly, holding out a large mess of shimmering dark cloth.

“The invisibility cloak?! Harry, are you sure?” 

“Absolutely. I know you have to do this alone. I get it. But at least take this. Please. Promise me you’ll be careful.”

She took it from his hands with a nod and shoved it in her bag. “You’ll have it back in no time. I’ll see you soon.” 

Harry’s nervous face was the last thing she saw before apparting.

_

She was back right outside of Seamus’s place. She turned and saw him watching her from his window. Hermione couldn’t fault him for not offering to join her. Seamus had suffered greatly from the war. Not only did he lose friends, but a rather nasty duel with a death eater caused him to lose half of his left leg. He deserved to rest.

So, Hermione moved on by herself, making her way down the winding mountain path. As she rounded the first corner, she pulled out the cloak and wrapped it tightly around herself. Once the sounds of Hogsmeade got further away, an eerie silence creeped in. Not an empty silence. It was heavy-loaded with expectations. The soft crunching of her feet morphed into a cacophony amongst the stagnant air. 

She had walked what had to have been at least a couple kilometers before she saw them-another set of footprints. Luckily the ground was still wet from an early morning rain. That would make this much easier for Hermione. The prints were shallow, but definitely fresh. Her heart rate picked up as she upped the pace. She continued on for another twenty minutes following the footsteps as quietly as possible. The tall sides of the mountain reached up to the sky , closing in around her. It made Hermione feel incredibly small. 

She let her mind wander. It was strange that Malfoy had chosen to walk through this area. Surely he knew that someone would see him. After all the effort he had taken over the previous months to remain hidden...it was simply out of character. This scared Hermione. It indicated that something had changed within the last few days. Perhaps Draco Malfoy had finally snapped. It was very possible that he planned on putting an end to this. He had lured her out here, and now he probably planned on killing her. 

Hermione suddenly felt torn. Was she being naive by taking the bait? The gravity of the situation settled heavy on her shoulders. She stopped walking, lost in her own thoughts. 

But then, as her eyes focused on the ground, she noticed the set of footprints change direction. They had gone off the path, heading towards an area strewn with large boulders. A treacherous path in its own right.

There was no time for thinking, only time for action. Hermione made up her mind, and continued on.

She traversed approximately 100 more meters before the footprints stopped. They had put her right in front of the mouth to a small cave situated on the side of the mountain. A short way off in the darkness, there was a faint glow. A fire. 

Heart pounding, she tightened the invisibility cloak around herself once more and stooped slightly to fit in through the entrance. She tread as lightly as possible. 

Clearly he hadn’t set up any wards. That was another bad sign. That meant that he wanted her to come in. Still she went on, wand held close at her side. The glow from the fire grew until it filled the entire passage.

And suddenly, there he was. 

Just...sitting. Eyes unfocused, staring at the flames. Hermione noticed that it was a natural fire, or rather, one that wasn’t made with magic. Shadow from the jumping flames danced across the planes of his pale face. The lighting made him look practically...demonic. Yet there was something pitiful about him, too. He looked as spent as a person possibly could, and the dark walls of the cave seemed to swallow his frail body. 

Hermione stood frozen, unable to do anything but analyze the man of her nightmares. 

“I know you’re here,” his voice carried across the room on an echo. Clearly he could somehow still sense her magic. Her presence. “Granger.”

She snapped out of it. Hermione whipped the cloak off and pointed her wand at his chest. His wand was nowhere to be seen. She advanced on him slowly, one small step at a time. She tried to keep her face as expressionless as possible, despite the fear and uncertainty she felt. “Don’t. Try. Anything.”

Draco Malfoy said nothing, but he kept his eyes on her. 

“Where is your wand?” She spat out. 

Draco pointed across from the fire, where he had put a pile of his things. There was his wand, a long jacket, and a tattered bag.

“I’ve been waiting for you.” His eyes bore into hers. The flames reflected in his dark pupils. “Are you here to take me in?” His whisper carried through the room, settling softly on her ears. Goosebumps bubbled up on her skin. 

It was such a simple question, and yet it filled Hermione with a surge of emotions. Hate, mostly. But other indescribable things. Terrible things that she was constantly trying to suppress. 

“Stand up. Now.” 

Draco stood. Hermione flinched slightly at his movement. She conjured up a length of rope, which tied itself around the man before her. Once she was sure he couldn’t move his arms, she darted forward and picked up his wand. 

He watched her quietly. They stared at each other in silence for what felt like hours. Hermione now kept both wands pointed at his chest. Waiting for him to pounce. The inevitable retaliation. Surely, he had something wicked planned. Her heavy breathing echoed off the walls. Draco finally moved his gaze from her face, and instead focused on the flames from the fire. 

Exasperation gripped her. Doubt. She was used to Draco escaping. Out maneuvering her. “What is this? What’s the catch?” Hermione couldn't accept that he wasn’t putting up a fight. Not even an attempt.

“There is none. I’m ready to go.” 

“You’re-  _ what? _ ” Her hands started to shake. It was the rage, flowing through her once again. Taking over any other emotion she had been feeling. “After all this time. You can’t even give me the satisfaction of beating you in the end?” 

“What’s the point?” His voice was so, so tired.

“WHAT’S THE POINT? I’ve spent the last 6 months worrying about nothing but this. My life has been dedicated to finding you. To  _ beating  _ you. I’ve sacrificed my time, my relationships, my mental capacities, my happiness...all for this. For you.For this moment. I’ve suffered nothing but failures because of  _ you _ . Now you give up? You want to treat this like a regular old game of cat and mouse, huh? Now what? You’re bored? You’re done with this game?” Hermione could feel herself losing control. Draco watched her in silence. “Just another example of how fucking atrocious you, how entitled and  _ cold _ . No empathy, no understanding. A stain upon humans.”

The pent-up anger exploded out of her. Everything outside of Draco Malfoy’s face became blurry as she felt her body propel forward, arms reaching out to shove him to the ground. 

Draco fell hard, his left shoulder cracking loudly against the stone floor. Hermione moved quickly, standing over him and turning his body on it’s back so that his terrible face was right below hers. For the first time, a look of fear flashed in his eyes. 

She put the tip of her wand at his throat. “Get up.” Her voice was unrecognizable. 

It took Draco a few sad attempts to stand without the use of his hands or arms. Hermione watched him silently. The moment he was standing up again, Hermione shoved him once more. This time, he landed hard on his back, head bouncing off the ground. A faint whimper escaped Draco’s mouth. Hermione moved quickly to straddle his body on the ground, while her hands held his shoulder firmly in place. Draco’s head was turned from her, staring blankly at the stone wall. “Look at me.” Hermione ordered.

Draco said nothing, did nothing in return. “Look at me!” She urged louder.

No reply. Draco closed his eyes.

“I said  **LOOK AT ME** !” Before she could register what had happened, Hermione felt her hand connect with his face. A red patch started to grow on his cheek from where she had slapped him. Draco winced, but he still kept silent. “You might think this is a game, but I don’t. I’m sure you think it’s rather funny, watching me suffer all this time. Now to add further insult to injury, you give in without a fight?”

Draco finally opened his eyes. His face was blank.

“Say something. SAY SOMETHING TO ME.” She begged him. Her first raise on it’s own accord, ready to strike Malfoy as he lay beneath her. Her hand shook violently, and red covered her vision. 

A tiny movement caught her eye. She watched as a small droplet fell on to his dirty, ashen face. It landed on his cheekbone, then slid slowly down his face, creating a clean line in it’s wake. It was a tear. But not his tear. Hermione felt another fall from her eye, this one landing on his neck.

She was immediately wrenched out of her fit of rage. A low, guttural sob escaped her mouth as she put her fist down, resting it gently on the floor beside Malfoy’s head. Everything seemed to wash over her at once. She was so incredibly tired. “You’re a terrible person.” She told Draco as she moved off of him and stood up. “You’ll pay for what you’ve done. I swear it.” She waited until he met her gaze one last time before raising her wand. “ _ Stupefy _ .”

Hermione grabbed what little things Malfoy had, then walked over to his unconscious body. She knelt down and scooped his upper body into her arms, examining his face. Like this, he looked even more pitiful than before. For just a second, Hermione saw a trace of the young Hogwarts student he once was. Not innocent by any means, but not what he had turned out to be. 

She wiped away her tears before apparting both of them to Grimmauld Place.


	4. Part 1, Chapter 4

“Why is he here, Hermione?”

“What do you mean?”

Harry watched her, incredulous. “What do I mean? Hermione. I’m not trying to be rude, but get ahold of yourself.”

There was a faint scowl on her lips. “I don’t trust him being anywhere else. He might escape again.”

Harry turned to look at Draco Malfoy, who was currently lying prone on top of a futon in one of the guest bedrooms at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. He had come out of unconsciousness hours ago, but had then almost immediately fallen into an impressively deep sleep. His appearance was even more shocking under the soft lighting of the cozy, clean room. He was not only gaunt, but unbelievably dirty. Flecks of mud covered almost every part of him. His hair, his clothing, even his long fingers. He was still dressed exactly as he was when Hermione had found him. Black jeans, some thick soled outdoorsy boots, and a plain (albeit stained) white tshirt under a simple black coat. Any trace of his rich, entitled upbringing was nowhere to be found. 

“You could at least take his shoes off,” Harry muttered.

“If you want to help him so bad, you do it. I’m not touching him again.” Hermione pointed her chin sharply at her best friend. “Once was enough. Speaking of, I’m going to take a shower in a vain attempt to get his scent off of me. Will you watch him for a few minutes?” 

Harry started to protest, but Hermione was already out the room and down the hall. 

Truthfully, Harry didn’t really need to stay in the room with Malfoy. Hermione had put up enough wards, anti-apparition spells, and other miscellaneous enchantments that it would be nearly impossible for anybody to leave that house, let alone that room. Still, the idea of leaving him alone made her feel anxious. 

As Hermione was exiting the bathroom, she heard loud voices coming from the down in the kitchen. She descended the stairs to find Molly and Arthur Weasley arguing with Harry. As she entered the room, they spun around to face her. 

“Absolutely not!” Molly Weasley said. “He won’t be staying here!”

“Where else would he go? The Burrow?” Hermione asked, half joking.

Molly clearly didn’t appreciate the joke. She gasped, eyes going wide. “Of course not! Honestly, Hermione.”

“It’s not permanent. Just until he’s put on trial.” Hermione said calmly.

Arthur shook his head aggressively. “No. No, no, no. Not only is that inexplicably dangerous, it’s also not entirely  _ legal _ , Hermione. If the Ministry finds out about us harboring one of the last remaining Death Eaters at large...I can’t even imagine the backlash. There are rules and regulations for this type of thing.” 

“He’s a murderer!” Hermione countered indignantly. 

Molly cut her husband off before he said anything more with a wave of her hand and stepped toward Hermione. She reached out and grabbed the younger witch’s shoulders gently, fixing her with her famous loving smile. “We know, dear. You’ve done what you can, and now it’s time for this to be off our hands. You were brilliant-there aren’t many witches, or wizards for that matter, your age who could pull off what you did tonight, or anything that you’ve done in the last 2 years. Let somebody handle it now. It would be for the best.” Her eyes seemed to search Hermione’s own, begging for understanding. 

Hermione straightened up indignantly, but gave an apologetic look to Molly. “I feel like you’re all treating this as if he’s some kind of normal criminal. This is the son of one of the most powerful Death Eaters. We need to take extreme precaution, and to me that means keeping him under the surveillance of people I fully trust to not let him get away. How do we know that some arbitrary Ministry employees can handle that?”

Arthur Weasley sighed deeply. “Hermione, you need to have a little more faith in them. They’re on our side, and I can assure you that they are trying to help. And that’s coming from one of their own!”

“They’ve been lazy the last couple months, even you can admit that. They’re attention has shifted.” 

Harry spoke up from the corner of the room. “As it should.” He took a step towards Hermione. “Maybe they’re doing the right thing. Moving on, I mean. Things are finally starting to feel...normal again. Don’t you think?”

Hermione scoffed. “Not with people like  _ him _ .” she pointed angrily up the stairs, “still on the loose. Unpunished for the horrible acts they committed. How can we really say we won if every single one of them isn’t in Azkaban yet? Our job isn't finished. Harry.”

Harry, Arthur, and Molly all looked at each other quickly, then back to Hermione. She stood in the center of the group, jaw shut tight in defiance. An awkward moment of heavy silence passed before anybody spoke.

Hermione thought maybe she had gone too far. “Well, as owner of the house, I suppose Harry should have the final say,” she declared, trying to keep her voice from shaking. She suddenly felt a waver in her anger. “What do you say, Harry?”

He hesitated for a moment in thought, then flicked his eyes up to Hermione’s. He gave her a quick nod. “Malfoy can stay here for the night, but by this time tomorrow he should be on his way to the ministry. We’ll warn them of his arrival tomorrow morning. That way we can make sure everybody is on the same page about what kind of security he should have. Deal?”

It took everything in Hermione to squash the need to argue. She nodded tersely. It was a decent compromise, and it still gave her some time to do something that she had been waiting a very long time for. 

Hermione wouldn’t admit it to Harry, or anybody else for that matter, but one of the reasons she wanted to catch Malfoy was because she wanted to question him herself. She needed to know  _ why _ .  _ How _ . Was Malfoy so easily influenced by his wretched family that he could be driven to such malevolence? He had watched in silence as she was tortured nearly to death. He witnessed terrible things happening to his classmates, and never seemed to question it, or show the least bit of remorse. How could someone so young be so hateful? Was it something deeper? Was there something simply evil inside of Draco Malfoy? She needed answers, direct from the source. She wasn’t sure how talkative Malfoy would be, or if finding out answers from him would give Hermione the sense of closure she needed, but she was damn well going to try anyway. 

After the quick argument, the four of them in the kitchen stood around the table and discussed other things. Molly had an update on Ginny, who was currently abroad doing some training with a curse-breaker. “Just got her owl a few hours ago-she’s just settled down in a castle in Romania that’s been converted into a training facility of some sort. She sounded excited- apparently the previous owners were some lower royalty within the Romanian government-not to mention a werewolf couple. She says it’s a fascinating place.”

Molly and Arthur left a few minutes later. “We’ll be back tomorrow afternoon to help with his transportation,” Arthur told Hermione with a serious look. “Until then, take care.” They waved quickly before apparating with a crack.

Harry turned to Hermione, his face looking tired. “No hard feelings?”

Hermione gave him a smirk before closing the distance between them and giving him a deep hug. She took a long breath and let it out slowly, squeezing her best friend’s shoulders. It felt good to hold someone, and maybe even better to be held. She pulled back and looked him directly in the eyes. “Never.”

_

The door to the guest bedroom closed quietly behind Hermione. She stood silently in front of the doorway to the dark room. It was eerily quiet. Hermione listened to her own breath rise and fall slowly. She was mildly aware of the feeling of numbness in her fingers. Her fingers always felt numb when she was nervous. 

As she attempted to steady herself, a low voice cut through the darkness. “Granger?”

She balked at her own name. It sounded so horrible coming from him. “Yes.”

“Can you at least turn on a light?”

She flicked her wrist, and the bulb at the center of the ceiling lit up. It cast soft shadows across the room. Draco Malfoy sat up straight on the futon, and swung his legs around to rest on the floor. In response to the movement, Hermione raised her wand at him. 

He rolled his eyes, looking bored. “Relax, I’m not going to charge at you or anything.”

“You’ve certainly perked up quickly, haven't you?” She was unsurprised by his characteristic sass. The sleep he got clearly gave him some renewed vigor. 

“Getting sleep was...a relief.” He looked up at her from under his eyelids still heavy with rest. 

“Well, then I regret letting you have it.”

He didn’t respond. His gaze fell to the floor. 

“I suspect you know why I’m here.” Hermione waited until Draco gave her a small, firm nod. “Right. So first off, who were you travelling with?”

Draco laughed, but it was a hollow sound. “Nobody.” 

“You’re a liar.”

“I’m not. I was by myself. For the last...what’s today’s date?”

“The 24th of August. 2000.”

“So for the last year or so. Is how long i've been by myself.” He clenched and unclenched his fingers a few times slowly, observing his own hands. 

“There’s no way. You had no outside help? No informant, nobody providing you with places to hide?” She searched his face for any kind of emotion. It was blank. 

“Who would do that?” Malfoy stilled his hands and titled his head up to Hermione. 

She found that it was particularly hard to look at him for extended periods of time. It felt as if her brain couldn’t process it-the fact that he was here in front of her. Looking in his eyes produced an odd sensation in her stomach; not fear, but something close to it. “Feigning ignorance won't help you now, Malfoy. Other death eaters, supporters of the Dark Lord, the Voldemort sympathizers.  _ That’s  _ who would do that.  _ They  _ are who would help you.”

“Granger, you’re wrong.” The blonde yawned, then returned his gaze to her. “Helping me would be counterproductive to all those people.”

“How…?!”

He blinked. “Because they’re the ones I was running from.” 

Hermione felt her eyes widen in shock. “Another lie. You’ve been running from us, from me. Always getting away at the last second. Always finding a way out.”

Malfoy’s eyebrows knitted together in thought. “I suppose technically you’re right. I have been running from you, but I didn’t know it was you, so I don’t think that counts.”

Hermione’s heart started to race.  _ No. No, no, no. Don’t let him lie to you _ . “You saw us! How could you possibly not know?”

“I saw you on the fishing boat. That was the first time.” He said this as if it was a matter of fact. 

She was about to argue before a realization hit her. He was right. That time on the boat...it was the only time the two had actually faced each other. Any other time, Malfoy had escaped before they got anywhere near him. But surely he would know who it was that was coming after him? “Well common sense should have told you who was attempting your capture. Surely you would be running from the group of people you’ve wronged so many times over the years. Your enemies.”

“Are you my enemy?” The light bulb flickered ominously as the words exited his mouth. Hermione glanced at it before returning her attention to the man in front of her.

“Yes I am.” She felt the poison in her words. 

Malfoy gave another hollow laugh, but his expression was hard. “It seems I have nothing but enemies.”

Hermione felt her anger bubbling. “If you’re looking for sympathy, you won’t find any from me.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything different.” 

“So if any of what you’re saying is true, enlighten me: why would you be running from your side? Did you have a disagreement with mummy?”

“I denied them.” His voice was quiet, but his gaze was burning through her. 

“Denied them how?”

“Rejected them. Told them no. Whatever. Betrayed them, in their eyes.” He kept his tone level, and Hermione could tell he was trying hard to mask any emotion from showing. His left eye twitched slightly as she watched him.

The witch’s pulse beat heavily against her neck. If what he said was true...no. There was no way. He was manipulating her, trying to come across as the victim. Building up his alibi before the trial he knew was bound to happen. Malfoy was a horrible person, but he was clever and ruthless. He was trying to find a way to avoid his just punishment. He’d failed at one method, and was attempting a new one. Hermione had to stay strong, she couldn’t show any vulnerability for him to latch on to and exploit.

She levitated one of the books over from the shelf against the wall and transfigured it into a small bucket. “ _ Aguamenti _ ,” she muttered. Water flowed from the tip of her wand and into the bucket. She then walked over to the dresser and took out a towel from the middle drawer. She tossed the towel aggressively at Malfoy. “Here. You can use this to wash up. I’ll be back first thing in the morning. Maybe by then you’ll be ready to tell me the truth. In the meantime, I’m done listening to your poisonous lies. Get a good night’s sleep Malfoy, because I suspect that after tonight you won’t be spending much time in any more comfortable accommodations.” 

She stared down her nose at him. He merely grabbed the towel and set it beside him, watching her the whole time. 

As she closed the door behind her, she heard a quiet word spoken from the futon. “Thanks.”

_

She had another dream about him that night. In it, they were back at Hogwarts. Hermione was sitting at the Gryffindor table, going over her arithmancy notes. It was a quiet morning, with only a few other students eating breakfast. She looked up from her parchment and saw Draco Malfoy staring at her from the Slytherin table. His lips were moving as if he was saying something to her, but she couldn't hear anything. 

All the lights in the Great Hall went out in a single sweep. The few students that were there started to scream, grabbing at their things and fleeing from the room. A soft glow appeared at the Slytherin table. It seemed to appear out of nowhere, and lit up only Malfoy’s face. In fact, Malfoy seemed to be the source of the light. His face was the only thing Hermione could see. His mouth was still moving, but now she could hear the softest of utterances. She strained to hear. The soft words got louder, and they enveloped Hermione. They were all around her, echoing off of the walls, but also inside her head. 

As she listened, two dark, sharp objects began to protrude from the top of Malfoy’s forehead. Her mouth dropped open in horror as the horns grew out of his head and up towards the ceiling. Demonic.

The words were so loud in her head that she felt the need to clamp her hands over her ears. His voice, weaving its way through her vulnerable mind. The volume increased until she felt as if nothing in the world existed outside of those words. They were her reality, her fate, her meaning. As she tried to strain against them, Malfoy watched her from across the room, the horns on his head creating terrifying shadows across his face. 

Her mind was at its breaking point. It couldn’t handle it anymore. Just as Hermione felt as if she would slip into unconsciousness, the words stopped, and were replaced by a faint ringing, as if she had just stepped into a quiet room after a loud concert. The lights flickered back on, and when she looked back at Draco Malfoy, the horns were gone. 

She woke up in a sweat, with the words from her dream engrained in her mind.

_ Righteous judge of vengeance, _

_ grant me the gift of absolution _

_ before the day of retribution.  _

_ I moan as one who is guilty: _

_ owning my shame with a red face;  _

_ suppliant before you _ ..

She raced to the guest bedroom, yanking the door open and rushing to the side of the futon. The light of morning shone through the small window and landed directly on Malfoy’s face. Despite the scowl he wore even in sleep, he looked...peaceful. He had cleaned up his face, and it made him look much younger than the night before. Without thinking, Hermione ran her hands over his forehead, at the spots where the horns had grown in her dream. 

He jerked awake at her touch and grabbed her wrist. Unable to hide his emotions so soon after waking, his eyes widened in shock. “What are you doing?”

Hermione had to admit that she didn’t really know. She suddenly felt foolish. “I had a dream…”

He waited, clearly expecting more of an explanation. 

She shook her head lightly, finally starting to feel fully awake. She glanced at where his hand was tightly holding her wrist and her nostrils flared. 

Malfoy quickly dropped it, muttering a whispered, “ sorry…”

Hermione stood up and took a step backward, firmly planted her feet, and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “You still have a few hours here. Molly and Arthur Weasley will be coming to help Harry and I transport you to the ministry. What happens after that, I can’t tell you for certain. You’ll be put on trial, obviously. When that may be, I’ve no idea. The Ministry has been taking anywhere from a few hours to a few months to get through the process. And since you’re such a  _ special _ ,” she emphasized the word and narrowed her eyes at him, “case, you will be held in Azkaban until that trial happens.”

She searched his face in the silence after that. Malfoy looked unshaken. 

“With that being said, it would benefit you to start telling me the truth. You might not have another chance to talk to anyone for awhile. The Wizengamot is more appreciative of the criminals that don’t try to sell them some sob story. They prefer the truth up front, and don’t want to feel as if they’re time is being wasted.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll also add that it’s highly unlikely that there will be anyone to represent you- all of the convicted Death Eaters so far all had to do it themselves. Nobody wants to represent evil these days, even if they get paid for it.” A sudden thought occurred to Hermione and she laughed in his face. “How funny- choosing to do good even when there’s a lot of money involved-that’s the exact opposite of your whole thing, isn’t it? You’ll be disappointed to know that a lot has changed-people have changed. They’re kinder, more accepting. Does that scare you?”

Malfoy’s jaw was tensed. Hermione could tell he was gritting his teeth. “It seems as if you’ve changed too, though not for the better.”

She froze, heart beating fast. “Excuse me?”

“I never would have thought you’d turn in to such an antagonistic bully.” He sounded almost disappointed. 

Hermione felt it. The rage. Burning red through her body. She tried to keep her voice as steady as possible. “How. Dare. You,” she inched towards him, eyes welling up with hot, angry tears. “How dare you call me names? How dare you try to be a judge on my character? After the things you’ve done…?” Malfoy at least had the decency to drop her gaze. He turned his head to look out the window as she continued on. “A bully? Don’t make me laugh. You just don’t like being told the truth. Well here’s some more for you-compared to  _ you _ , Draco Malfoy,  _ I  _ am a saint.” 

A beat of silence. Then, “You’re right.” Malfoy looked at her again, and finally some emotions played across his face. He looked defeated. Possibly even a little sad. “You are a saint compared to me. I’m like...a fiend, I suppose.” A terrible noise left his throat. It was a short, almost manic laugh. It shocked Hermione, and she jumped back from him. 

A heavy silence filled the room. The two of them watched each other for a few long moments. Malfoy looked at her as if he was trying to solve a puzzle. He searched her face for clues, for direction. Hermione felt her heartbeat start to normalize. 

“I’m not lying to you, Granger. I know it’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth.” His voice was cold and distant. He had his shoulders hunched forward, and was leaning his elbows onto his knees on the edge of the bed. He clenched and unclenched his long fingers a few times before clasping them together. “I wasn’t with anyone. I left by myself.”

Her voice was a harsh whisper. “But why would you do that?”

“I didn’t want to be a part of it anymore.”

The witch scoffed in disbelief. “If that was the case, why wouldn’t you come to us and plead your case? Why run?”

Malfoy stood up from the bed with a desperate look on his face. His arms reached toward her in exasperation. “I don’t know!”His eyes showed flashes of emotion-anger, embarrassment, confusion. “I don’t know, alright? I was scared! I had no idea what anybody would do to me if they found me. I thought I could outrun it all. Everyone. Everything. Obviously I was wrong.” He sat back down on the futon and returned his gaze to the window.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak right as heavy footsteps came bounding down the hallway and into the guest bedroom. Harry appeared at the door. He observed the scene in front of him quickly. “Malfoy.”

The blonde wizard flicked his eyes up to meet Harry’s for a split second. “Potter.”

Harry tossed him a leftover half loaf of wheat bread and an apple. “You’re welcome.” He turned to Hermione. “Can I have a word?” She nodded and he led her out of the room, closing the door behind them.

He looked worried. “Are you alright? You’re shaking.”

Hermione hadn’t even noticed. She took a deep breath. “I’m fine. Any word from the Weasleys? I know I said I wanted him to stay here last night, but having him here is really stressing me out. It just feels so wrong.”

Harry nodded in agreement. “I haven’t heard anything from them, but it could be any minute.” He put a warm hand on her shoulder. “I don’t think I ever said it properly last night, so I’ll say it now-I’m proud of you, Hermione. You finally did it. You finally caught Draco Malfoy. I was up late thinking about it all last night. It kind of feels like the end of an era, doesn’t it? Closure, or something.” A smile played at his lips.

Hermione returned the smile, but she still felt a deep unease. Harry didn’t need to know that. “It does a bit, yeah. It feels good.” Hermione wanted so badly to feel good, but she wasn’t there yet.

“Let’s go and get ourselves ready. Is there anything else you need to do with him before we leave?” Harry gestured towards the guest bedroom.

Hermione looked at the plain door. She could practically feel Malfoy’s blank stare through the wood. She figured he was probably listening. 

“No, not at all.”


	5. Part 1, Chapter 5

When they floo into the Ministry a few hours later, a swarm of photographers and reporters were there to greet them in the atrium. The considerable crowd closed in on the five of them as they hurried across the room, and combined with the regular busy foot traffic of the massive building, the amount of people crowded in the room was staggering. Walking quickly to keep up with Hermione, Draco Malfoy kept his head low, giving no reaction to the camera flashes. Arthur and Molly did their best to shoo away the questioning witches and wizards while they all made a beeline for the elevators. 

They were almost to them when Hermione felt a spell bounce off of the wall in front of her.

Arthur had felt it too. “EVERYBODY DOWN!” he bellowed, “AND AT THE READY!” another spell nearly hit them- a red streak flying dangerously close by Malfoy’s face.

Chaos broke loose. Every bystander in the atrium started running, each of them in a different direction. Screams echoed across the expansive room. The group of five made it to the elevators and huddled together in front of one, blocking the spells that continued to come their way.

“I can’t tell who they’re coming from!” Harry screamed, reflecting everyone’s thoughts. “There’s too many people to tell!” 

“We have to move! We’re like sitting ducks out here,” Arthur added. He slammed his fist into the elevator call button. 

A few more spells shot through the crowd. They could barely hear each other over the commotion in front of them. Hermione spotted a few witches and wizards lying unconscious on the atrium floor, those who had obviously been caught in the crossfire. Her heart sunk. _ If anyone was killed… _

The elevator doors finally opened and the five of them hurried in. Just as the doors were about to close, Hermione saw a green streak cut through the room, and it’s trajectory was putting it right to where Malfoy was standing. Without a second thought, she jumped in front of him, throwing out a counter curse. The spell died in the air mere feet in front of them. The elevator doors finally closed, and Hermione let out a long breath. A body shifted behind her. She whipped around, fixing Malfoy with a scowl. “What have you done?” She spit out. “What have your  _ friends  _ done? Trying to beat us with an ambush? Had your rescue planned out this whole time, I suppose?”

“Leave him, Hermione. We should have known there would be an attempt to retrieve Mr. Malfoy today. We should have been more prepared,” Arthur sighed beside her. “My big concern now is that there’s obviously a rat in the Ministry. There’s no other way the information of his arrival would have been spread. This has some seriously nasty implications.”

Hermione huffed, but she didn’t argue any further. Her mind was stuck on those innocent people on the floor in the atrium. 

“They were trying to kill him,” a quiet voice said from the corner of the elevator. Everyone turned to stare at Harry. There wss a kind of far away look on his face. “The last spell you blocked, Hermione. That was a killing curse. Whoever it was in there was trying to kill him.”

They turned to Draco. He made eye contact with each of them, and ended with his gaze on Hermione. His face was guarded, but for some reason she felt as if he were trying to convey something to her. His eyes were a little too intense. “I told you,” he finally said in a slow drawl, “it seems I have nothing but enemies these days.”

Nobody said anything to that, and the group rode the rest of the way to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in silence. Hermione felt a pair of eyes burning into the back of her head tre whole way up.

Kingsley Shacklebolt was there as soon as the elevator doors opened. He rushed towards them, and signaled for some more of the aurors to join him. A circle was quickly formed around them, and although no wands had been drawn, it was very much implied that they were at the ready. The aurors stared at Draco Malfoy with disgust.

“Arthur, what’s happened down there?” Kingsley asked, obviously trying very hard to not to look worried.

“Not quite sure. Either a rescue mission for our Mr. Malfoy here, or a murder attempt. Possibly both. A killing curse was cast.”

Kinglsey’s face contorted in shock. “In the middle of the atrium?”

“I’m afraid so,” Arthur leaned in, glancing furtively around the room. “I think it best that we get Draco Malfoy in a secured area before we talk about this further. Do we have a temporary cell ready for him?”

Kingsley nodded and gestured for them to follow him. He led them down a winding corridor, passing what looked like some of the offices belonging to the aurors. Past the offices, they descend down a stone staircase, and the dark marble walls seemed to get incrementally tighter around them. At the bottom of the staircase, they came to a fork in the corridor. Kingsley led them to the left, and the air seemed to grow thicker with every step. Hermione could see plain marble doors lining the sides, each one with a small rectangle at eye level.

They stopped in front of one of the doors, and Kinglsey reached inside of his robes to produce a large key ring. Hermione found that odd, seeing as the door had no keyhole. 

Nevertheless, Kingsley finally picked out a small, copper key and took it off the ring. As he brought it closer to the door, a keyhole appeared. He inserted the key, and the large door swung inward silently. “After you, Mr. Malfoy,” Kingsley instructed with a clipped tone. 

Hermione watched as the blonde slowly walked into the room. After taking a few steps, he stopped and turned to face them. His face was shrouded in shadow, and for a brief moment, Hermione saw the Malfoy from her dream, eyes burning under the black horns growing from his head. His eyes flicked to hers and she felt a shiver run down her spine. 

“Someone will be along shortly with some food and water. Do you need any other kind of medical attention presently?” Kingsley asked, all business.

Malfoy shook his head once. “No, just hungry.” At that, any illusion of malevolence seemed to melt away from him, and all Hermione could see before her was a lonely, defeated schoolboy. Her chest tightened, and for a second she felt almost sympathetic. She squashed the feeling quickly.

Kingsley nodded tersely before closing the door. Hermione thought there would be some sense of relief once he was officially locked away, but if anything the feeling of unease had grown worse. 

Kingsley ushered everybody back down the corridor, his long cloak billowing in the dim light in front of them. They reached the main offices and two aurors swooped in on Kinglsey. “The atrium has been secured. Nobody was captured. Whoever it was, they got in and out with surprising ease,” an older witch with stick straight brown hair informed him. “Extra wards have been put up at every entrance for preventative measures. Only employees and those with previously scheduled affairs will be allowed in until further notice.”

“Notify me if anything else comes up. I’ll be in my office-I’m sure I have some damage control to do. Arthur-” he turned to Mr. Weasley, and placed a hand heavily on his shoulder. “When you get a free moment, will you join me later today? You and I have much to discuss.” 

“Of course. Molly, kids-let’s get back. I’m sure everyone at The Burrow is worried sick.” 

Hermione interjected. “Wait-with Malfoy...will there be somebody watching his cell?”

“Rest assured that nobody will be getting in or out of that cell, Miss Granger.” Kingsley answered, giving her a tight-lipped smile. 

“I believe you, but wouldn’t it be a good idea if there was somebody there...just to make sure..” her voice trailed off as she saw the looks Molly and Arthur were giving her. They looked like disappointed parents.

“I appreciate your concern and I admire your tenacity. You have my word that he will not be going anywhere. Do you trust me?” Kingsley searched her eyes.

She nodded once then dropped her gaze. “I’m sorry, Kingsley. I trust you. It’s been a long 6 months. My brain will probably be on high alert for a while. I didn’t intend any disrespect.”

Kingsley flashed her a big, sparkling grin. “I know, Hermione.” He walked forward and wrapped his long arms around her in a comforting embrace. “Thank you for all of your help. This couldn’t have been done without you. Now go, all of you-it’s time to celebrate!”

As they were leaving, Harry finally turned to her. “Unfortunately you and I have one more major obstacle to cross before any celebrating can be done.”

Hermione knitted her brow in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Harry sighed. “Ron. Can you imagine how mad he’ll be when he realizes he missed out on the opportunity to put Draco Malfoy behind bars? We’ll never live it down.” 

“Oh, hell...”

_

Ron was, in fact, very cross with them when they returned. His mouth had fallen open in shock after they told him of the previous day's activities. 

“We didn’t want to worry you…” Harry said, glancing at Hermione for backup. She nodded her head in confirmation. 

The three of them were sitting out in the front lawn, soaking up what little sunlight there was. As Ron continued to verbally berate them, Hermione took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She had spent most of her afternoon trying to find that sense of peace she had been craving for so long. While everyone else seemed so calm and accomplished, she still felt the opposite. Her mind kept going back to Malfoy, locked up behind that thick marble door. 

“...we were supposed to be best friends. I was under the impression that best friends shared everything with each other- ESPECIALLY things related to sticking it to Draco fucking Malfoy…” Ron continued to ramble on.

She saw him sitting down in that dark room, head bowed to the floor. What would he be doing? Sleeping? Crying? Begging for forgiveness? Plotting? Her thoughts were a mess with theories and guesses. He shouldn't have been left alone. It’s way too dangerous, even more so after what happened at the Ministry this morning. There were people out there waiting for the opportune moment to strike, to infiltrate the ministry and rescue Malfoy. 

“...letting you two off easy this time. If anything like this happens again, you’re dead to me, you hear me? Dead.” Ron pointed his finger at both of them. “Now tell me, how desperate and sad did his stupid little face look behind bars? I want you to be as descriptive as possible.”

Hermione laughed along with Harry while trying to hide her growing paranoia. 

The trio stayed outside until night came, chatting and laughing while the sun fell behind the treeline in the distance. They headed back inside The Burrow, and Harry and Ron started up a game of wizard’s chess. Hermione watched them play for a while, thoughts elsewhere. As one of Ron’s pieces threw a pawn over the edge of the kitchen table, she had a consuming thought. 

The cloak. 

It was still in her bag. 

“I’m going to head out, I’m pretty tired,” she fake yawned, stretching languidly in the chair. “I’m going back to my flat tonight. Now that all the fun is over.” Hermione had bought a place in Muggle London about a year ago, thinking it would be a good idea to get away from everything for a little while. She had rarely stayed there, but instead spent most of her time at The Burrow or Grimmauld Place, plotting how and where to catch Draco Malfoy. It had consumed nearly all her time. 

Harry and Ron groaned in protest. “Come on, stay the night. I promise we won’t spend the whole time playing chess. Let’s celebrate!” Ron pleaded. 

“I’ll be back tomorrow, I promise,” She stood, grabbed her bag, and without waiting for their answer, apparated out of the house.

She appeared in front of one of the many entrances to the Ministry of Magic. It was some nondescript door down an alley in London. Hermione dug through her bag and pulled out Harry’s cloak, throwing it over her head before a large group of muggles walked past the opening of the alleyway. As their laughter cut through the night, she reached out a hand and touched the doorknob. It turned bright blue beneath her fingers momentarily, and then creaked open to let her inside.

It was heavily guarded, even at this time of night. Witches and wizards roamed through the atrium on high alert. No doubt waiting for a repeat offense of what happened earlier. Hermione walked as slowly as she could, and slipped in an elevator behind a witch wearing a large stuffed owl on top of her hat. The witch got off at the Department of Magical Transportation, leaving Hermione alone. She hit the button for DMLE and took a calming breath.

Not surprisingly, the DMLE was swarming with activity despite the late hour. She stuck to the walls, maneuvering slowly around the throng of people hurrying about. She was really testing her luck coming here-Kinglsey might stick up for her if she was found, but she’d be in very hot water nonetheless. 

She easily found the corridor they had taken earlier, and after checking that nobody was coming, hurried down it, clutching the cloak tightly around her body. She took the left fork and passed all the other cells, not daring to look inside of them. At the end of the corridor she stopped, steadying her breath before stepping up to the marble door. She approached it as quietly as possible, holding her breath while peering in through the small rectangle. 

Upon seeing him still there, she let out the breath she was holding in relief. Malfoy was lying on his side on a cot at the other end of the room, back towards the door. Hermione could tell by the soft rise and fall of his back that he was deep in sleep. 

She stood in the corridor for what felt like ages, just watching him. Wondering if he dreamed as she did. If his dark mind conjured horrible things even as he slept. Could a person living amongst evil dream of anything but terrible things? Would his mind resist such tragedy, or would it welcome it? Was Draco Malfoy’s mind so far beyond repair that it thrived off of despair? 

He stirred in his sleep, and Hermione jerked back in surprise while letting out the tiniest gasp. He must have heard, because he jumped up at the noise, whirling around on the bed to look at the door. Hermione didn’t move, knowing the cloak was protecting her from being seen. Malfoy breathed a deep sigh, and rested his head back down on the plain mattress, facing the door this time. In just a few moments his breathing deepened, signalling that he had fallen back asleep. Hermione turned away from the small window and instead slouched down against the stone wall, resting her back against the coldness of it and hugging her knees into her chest. The chaos of the day finally caught up to her, and as her eyelids fluttered closed, she realized that this moment, sitting outside of the temporary holding cell of Draco Malfoy, was the first time in a long time that she didn’t feel overcome with anxiety and doubt. How strange.

_

“Granger?”

Hermione stirred, heart jumping up into her throat. She stiffened under the invisibility cloak and stilled her breath. There was no way Malfoy had seen her-the magical cloak was still fully covering her body. Could he have heard her? She didn’t think she snored...but maybe…

“Granger. Wake up. I know you’re there.” His voice cut through the still air and echoed menacingly off of the dark walls.

She sat still, defiant. Her neck turned up slowly to face the window of the door. The shadow from Malfoy’s head fell into the corridor, and Hermione watched silently as it shuffled around for a few seconds. She figured if she ignored him long enough he would give up and return to his cot. But then after that...what next? Hermione’s thought immediately spiraled into chaos. Would Draco tell Shacklebolt about her being there? Would he believe him? Once the normal day shift Ministry employees started to show up, how could Hermione possibly slip out unnoticed? The gravity of the situation she had gotten herself in was finally starting to set in, and it felt as if she was waking up from a dream. Her mind felt clearer somehow. As long as she could get out of this corridor, and back out into the atrium, perhaps she could blend in with the crowd…

“Hermione Granger. If you don’t answer me I’m going to scream for someone.” The statement was accompanied with a long sigh. 

The witch let out her breath in a huff and ripped the cloak off her head. “Don’t say my name like that.” She stood and stepped up to the window, coming face-to-face with her enemy. Her eyes narrowed as he watched her with a bored stare.

“How would you like me to say it?” The ghost of a smirk played at his thin lips. Hermione felt her stomach drop.

“I wouldn’t like you to say it at all, actually.”

His grey eyes blinked at her, and the corner of his mouth twitched as if he had thought of something amusing. “What are you doing here,  _ Hermione _ ?”

“Making sure you don’t escape, obviously.”

“I’m locked up in arguably the most secure place in England. How exactly would I have done that?”

“I’m sure you have ways. You nearly did on our way in, didn’t you?”

Malfoy groaned and turned away from the window. His hands raised to run long fingers through his grown-out shaggy blonde hair. It was almost to his shoulders. He turned back to the window. “I already told you-those aren’t my friends. They don’t want me alive. You saw it-they shot a killing curse at me. Which...Now that I think of it, I suppose thanks are in order.”

Hermione balked in surprise. “I-! Listen, Malfoy. Don’t misinterpret what I did for you in the elevator. It was instinct. A reflex.”

“So you would be ok with me dying?” His voice was so, so calm.

She deliberately dodged the question. “Don’t twist my words. And since we’re asking questions...how did you know I was here?”

Malfoy laughed. “I don’t know, I just had a feeling. I could sense your overwhelmingly snotty presence.”

Hermione hesitated in surprise. “That can’t be true,” she said in a whisper. 

He studied her reactions with a straight face. There was something different about him today. “You’re right, it’s not.” It was his eyes. They were...brighter, more alive. It was almost as if they were glowing under the dim light. Hypnotizing in a cruel, cold way. Trying to lure her in and take advantage. The image of an angler fish flashed in Hermione’s mind. “I heard you, actually. Talking. Well...I don’t know if I’d call it talking, More like...whimpering.”

This caught her off guard. “Talking?” She must have been talking in her sleep. As far as she knew, that was never something she had done before. “What did I say?”

He let silence fill in heavy between them while holding her gaze. After a few beats he answered, “my name.”

When had she gotten so close to the window? Their noses were now only mere inches apart, and Hermione let a disgusted noise leave her lips before pushing away from the door and turning her back to him. “More than likely a nightmare, then.” There was a faint waver in her voice, and she cursed inwardly at herself. She looked at her wristwatch-it was almost 7:00am already. She had slept much longer than she thought, and chances were high that more people working in the DMLE would be showing up any minute. She didn’t know if these cells were regularly patrolled during the day, but somebody was bound to show up at some point. 

She shook out the invisibility cloak and put in over her shoulders. 

“Leaving so soon? Don’t want to tell me about your dreams?” Malfoy’s voice had a hint of playfulness to it, and it made Hermione seethe.

Her response was an icy glare. Malfoy simply shrugged. She started to pull the cloak over her head, but he interrupted. “Before you go-I have a question.”

She raised her chin and looked down her nose at him with narrowed eyes. “Go on.”

“If something terrible happens to me. If I am killed, or, more likely, if I’m sentenced to a miserable, soulless, life in Azkaban...would you weep for me?”

He must be playing with her. “Not at all.” 

“Even if there’s a chance I don’t deserve it?” 

“You don’t think you deserve it?” 

“Some days I do, some days I don’t.” 

The rage was growing. Her fingertips had gone numb. “Lovely,” she spat out, “no offense Malfoy but I don’t give a damn about your moral dilemma. Not to mention I’m sick to death of having to listen to your lies. Coming here was obviously a mistake, and it won’t happen again. Even at the risk of you escaping. And anyway, if what you say is true and your people on the other side really are looking to kill you, well...I guess that’s your fate, isn’t it?” Her words were intended to sting, though if they did, Malfoy didn’t show it. He just watched her with dark eyes. 

She didn’t wait for him to answer. After covering herself with the cloak she took off down the corridor at a jog, trying in vain to sort out her thoughts. For as much as she desired to see Draco Malfoy get the punishment he was due, there was a meddling doubt growing inside of her. If there was even the slightest chance that what Malfoy has been saying is true...it would change things immensely…

Her mind came to a grinding halt. 

_No_.

She wouldn’t be manipulated by him. The fact that she was even entertaining the idea of his innocence meant he had already gotten to her, and she was not okay with that. No more. She would not waste any more time or energy on worrying about Draco Malfoy.

She emerged from the dark corridor and into the DMLE receiving area. Witches and wizards were milling about, but everybody had that slow, early morning energy. This was fortunate for Hermione, who easily navigated the room and made it to the elevators without anyone noticing anything amiss. In fact, she made it down the elevator and through the Ministry atrium without any conflict as well. Everybody was consumed in their own affairs-she had even accidentally shoulder bumped a witch on accident in passing and received nothing but a confused look and a shrug. 

Once outside, Hermione waited until the coast was clear and removed the cloak, shoving it in her beaded bag with a vow to return it to Harry as soon as possible. It was obviously far too dangerous in her hands. 

In the end she decided against going back to The Burrow right away, and instead apparated to her place in muggle London for a few hours of contemplative solitude.  She popped into her bedroom, a small but cozy room with a charming skylight and a queen sized bed fitted with deep magenta sheets and duvet. She didn’t have much else in the way of decorations, and the considerable amount of dust on the floor stood out in the early morning light. A room that hadn’t been used in many months. 

She padded into the kitchen and gave a start-she had a visitor waiting for her. A large barn owl was tapping away impatiently at her small window. Her stomach dropped-it was Kingsley’s owl.  She rushed to open the window and the owl immediately stuck it’s leg through the space, and waited calmly as she took the tiny rolled up piece of parchment from it. 

As the owl took off into the morning sun, Hermione steeled herself, ready for the worst. Somebody had seen her at the Ministry no doubt, or found out about her being there somehow. Perhaps Draco told someone and they believed him. Either way, this wouldn’t be good. She unrolled the paper.

_ Hermione- _ _   
_ _ Things have been put into motion much quicker than usual-good sign or bad sign, interpret that as you will. I have my theories. Either way, we’ve been cleared for the trial. Draco Malfoy will face the Wizangamot tomorrow at 9:00am. You’ve been asked to testify as a witness. I will meet you tomorrow morning. Be well. _

_ -Kingsley _


	6. Part 1, Chapter 6

“I don’t like it,” Arthur Weasley said for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, “I don’t like it at all.” He shifted in the armchair, crossing and uncrossing his legs anxiously. 

A small crowd was gathered in the kitchen. The usual suspects were there (Hermione, Harry, Ron, George, and the Weasley parents), and they were joined by Minerva and Neville, at the request of Arthur Weasley’s owl. Despite the fact that the kitchen was made to comfortably hold a large amount of people, it still felt slightly cramped with all of them there. It had been awhile since a lot of them were together at the same time- previously the Weasley kitchen had been one of the primary meeting places for Order members, after the battle at Hogwarts. Many hours had been spent here, strategizing and conspiring in the late hours of the night. It seemed as if everybody in the room felt that grim nostalgia now, and it filled the room with a noticeable tension.

“There are too many questionable things going on lately, and I’ll be the first to admit that it’s making me a bit nervous.” Arthur swept his gaze throughout the room. “The information about Draco Malfoy’s capture and arrival at the Ministry, the fiasco in the Atrium, and now the trial being pushed forward so quickly...none of it sits right with me.”

The room nodded collectively.

“I’ll get straight to the point. Kingsley and I have the same theory. We think there’s somebody in the Ministry working for the other side, more than likely somebody pretty high up. No clue as to who it would be, but…”

Minerva spoke up from the end of the table. “But what could possibly be their end goal?”

Arthur shrugged. “At this point, it’s impossible to tell. But one thing is for certain, it involves Draco Malfoy in some way or another. He’s clearly the catalyst in this situation.” 

Hermione felt goosebumps rise on her forearms, and she pointedly kept her gaze lowered at the wooden table. A wave of guilt washed over her-ultimately this was her fault, or at least that’s what it felt like. She’s the one who brought the problem here. Maybe it would have been better if they let Malfoy stay in hiding? Out of sight, out of mind, so to speak. There are so many things she could have done differently, and-

Something warm touched her arm. She snapped out of her thoughts to see Harry, leaning over slightly in his seat to put a gentle hand on her forearm. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said under his breath, “don’t be so hard on yourself. Nobody is blaming you.” He watched her in the dim light. She gave him a small smile and nodded, and he gave her arm another gentle brush before returning his attention to Arthur. In her peripheral vision, Hermione saw Ron watching the interaction. The room was feeling smaller by the second.

“I suppose the purpose of me bringing you all here tonight is to give a word of warning. I suggest we operate with a bit more caution for the time being. Things are feeling a little chaotic, and the least we can do is be aware of it.” Another round of collective nods. “Best case scenario, I’m just being overly paranoid and nothing will come of it. Worst case scenario, well…,” Arthur’s eyes glazed over for a moment as he paused, deep in thought,” ...let’s just say I’m interested in how the trial will go tomorrow.”

The group stayed up until well after midnight. Minerva and Molly went outside to have a hushed talk between the two of them at one point. George convinced Neville to let him test something he was developing on him, and the two men went upstairs. A few minutes later peals of laughter were heard in the darkness. 

Minerva came back inside and said her farewells before apparating quietly out of the kitchen. Arthur and Molly also took their leave, and made their way up the creaky staircase. Hermione yawned. “Can I stay here tonight? I don’t really feel like being alone.” 

Ron rolled his eyes. “You know you don’t have to ask that.”

She shrugged. “Just trying to be polite.” She gave him and Harry a sleepy smile and headed up to Ginny’s room. It’s where she had been spending most of her nights at The Burrow while the youngest Weasley was away. 

She had just changed into her warm sleeping robe when she heard a knock at the bedroom door. She opened it to find Harry standing in the hallway. 

“Hey, Harry...you alright?” Hermione felt her heartbeat picking up slightly. 

“I am, yeah. I guess I was just coming to check if  _ you  _ were alright.” He looked everywhere but in her eyes. “You seemed different today.”

“I’m fine, Harry. Don’t worry about me.” She tried to keep her voice calm. 

Harry moved towards her, ever so slightly. “I’ve been worried about you a lot lately,” he seemed to be saying it to himself rather than her. His eyebrows knitted together, and he took in a long, shaky breath. 

The space between them felt electric. Hermione became aware of her hands shaking, and she too took in a big breath. “Why?”

Harry’s eyes flicked up to hers suddenly, and they felt like a spotlight on her. She kept her eyes on his, afraid to blink and break this long overdue moment. Things between the two of them had been...weird lately, to say the least. 

“I don’t know, Hermione, I really don’t know-” Harry had inched towards her again as he said the words, and Hermione held her breath with expectation.

A door crashed open on the floor above them, and Neville came down the staircase, giggling to himself. He caught sight of Harry and Hermione and looked away guiltily. “G’night. I’ll see you soon, yeah?” 

“Absolutely. G’night, Neville!” Hermione answered a little too enthusiastically. 

As he continued down the stairs, Harry turned back to Hermione, but the tension had been broken. He stepped away and gave her a side smirk. “I’m glad you’re doing alright. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yeah...see you..” Hermione watched him walk down the stairs before closing the door behind her. She sat heavily on the bed, staring down at her hands as she processed what had just happened. 

She eventually fell asleep, thoughts of her best friend swimming through her subconscious as she slipped away. But as she dreamed, it was not of Harry. It was of her enemy- the bane of her existence, the source of all her unease. It was of Draco Malfoy.

_

“Which level, dear?” 

Hermione snapped out of her stupor and looked wide-eyed at the stout, friendly looking witch in the elevator with her. “Which-? Oh, uh, level two, please. Thank you. And good morning.” She tried to smooth down her a few times, feeling frazzled. 

The older witch chuckled, and a ringing noise came from under her cloaks as she did. “Rough start to your day?” 

Hermione nodded and the witch gave her a sympathetic smile. It had been a long night for the younger witch-a seemingly endless cycle of nightmares and restlessness. She completely gave up trying to get any meaningful rest around 4:30am, and instead got up and did some research on the Wizengamot in an attempt to get herself in the right state of mind for the trial. She doubted she would be there for the entire thing, but it was useful to know what the process was like. She had been a witness for two other trials, both involving high-ranking death eaters she helped capture, but at the time she was so busy with other ongoing missions that she hardly remembered the trials at all. The first year after the battle at Hogwarts had been a giant blur, for many reasons. 

The elevator grinded to a halt and Hermione stepped out, turning to give the other witch a good natured wave before facing the scene before her.

Kingsley was in deep conversation with a group of aurors across the room, and gestured for Hermione to join them when he caught sight of her approaching.

“Morning Hermione, budge up, the rest of you- make room for Ms. Granger please…great. Okay. Like I was saying, feel free to go about your regular work day, but just be...conscious. If you see anything, and I mean  _ anything  _ that seems off or odd, report to me immediately. Be cautious. Be observant.”

The aurors nodded, and the group broke off, each witch or wizard returning to whatever they were doing with a more watchful eye. Kingsley let out a long, labored sigh and turned his attention to Hermione.

“Glad you could make it. I’m not sure when they’ll be needing you, but somebody will surely come out to let us know. In the meantime, can I get you anything while you wait?”

“A coffee please.” She was still dead tired mentally, but a nervous adrenaline was starting to work it’s way through her body, and the clashing sensations were making her feel twitchy. 

After what seemed like forever, Hermione heard a loud creak and looked up to see a wizard in dark purple robes coming through the large entrance to the courtroom. He scanned the room and when his eyes landed on her, he motioned for her to join him. She downed the last bit of her coffee and took a calming breath before joining the old man. The sound of echoing chatter came from inside the room behind them.

“There’s a 10 minute recess now, and they’ll be ready for you after. Come, Ms. Granger.” The man said without a polite, stern smile. His dark grey beard trailed on the ground in front of him as he turned to descend the staircase leading down to the courtroom. They made their way past a few rows before coming to a seat that was right outside the circular floor of the cavernous room. A stone wall separated the bleacher-style seats of the wizengamot from the sunken area that held the accused. Directly across Hermione was the podium for the Chief Warlock. The room was large but still felt stifling-it felt very much like being in the mouth to a cave. Even the lighting was dimmed- causing long, ominous shadows to play against the walls. Hermione’s eyes followed the shadows for a moment, and they led her gaze to the very center of the room. 

A figure sat facing away from her in a dark chair, it’s head hanging toward the ground. As her eyes settled on it, the figure suddenly lifted it’s head and turned up and around to face her. 

Draco Malfoy watched as she took her seat. Hermione wasn’t sure how to react to him, so instead she just held his gaze for a brief moment. He shifted in his chair and gave her a nod. It was an eerily charged moment, and it made Hermione feel guilty somehow. From where she sat, she could really only see the back of his head. She was grateful for that, knowing that it would make this whole experience a little more bearable. She fiddled with her beaded back at her side, trying to get rid of some nervous energy. 

The courtroom started to settle down then, and a hush swept through the chamber. The Chief Warlock stood and addressed the room. Hermione tried to pay attention, but she was distractedly watching Malfoy, staring thoughtlessly at his shaggy blonde head. It looked so surreal and out of place in the dark, dim room. 

“...our next witness, Ms. Hermione Granger…”

She turned her attention back to the room, trying not to look as anxious as she felt. 

A younger one of the witches in purple robes was the first to address her. 

“Can you tell us what Mr. Malfoy was like during your schooling?”

“Foul.” The sharp word left her mouth so easily. “I tried not to judge too harshly, seeing as kids around that age have a tendency to be horrible most of the time anyway. But- Mr. Malfoy was particularly cruel. In a way that only rich, clever people can be.” Perhaps a bit harsh, but true. She looked down at the center of the room. There was no reaction from Malfoy. 

“Do you have any specific examples of this? Any event in particular that comes to mind?” The elder witch watched Hermione from across the room with an unreadable expression. 

“Oh I have plenty. Where would you like me to start?” 

Perhaps it was a trick of the shadows, but she thought she saw Malfoy shift slightly in his seat. 

Hermione recited the chronological history of Draco Malfoy’s bullying and general malevolence with ease. She gave as many anecdotes as she could remember, though she knew they barely scraped the surface of his awfulness. The wizengamot members listened to her with little interruption or reaction, though she didn’t notice this, because her attention was focused on Malfoy. He sat still as a statue the entire time, not daring to look back at her. 

When she got to their fifth year and mentioned Draco being on the inquisitorial squad, an incredibly round wizard spoke up from the top row. “Working directly under Dolores Umbridge? Mr. Malfoy failed to mention this already. Mr. Malfoy?”

Draco finally stirred. “Truthfully I had forgotten all about it. I did work with her-that is, I and a few of my classmates did. Though to be fair, she was a professor at the time. I don’t see the problem with a student following instructions from his superior, death eater or not.” His voice carried loudly through the cavernous room, and it sent a chill up Hermione’s spine.

The round wizard narrowed his eyes at Malfoy. “Indeed. We’ll need the names of the other students on this ‘squad’ later. In the meantime...Ms. Granger, it’s our understanding that you were more or less the brains behind locating and capturing Mr. Malfoy. Is this correct?

‘Yes.”

“During this time, that is-between your time at school together and now, can you tell us of anything else Draco Malfoy has done? Surely you’ve had run-ins with him?”

“Well-I...admittedly he alluded us quite successfully during that time,” she wiped her sweaty palms against her pants as she tried to remain calm. “There were...rumors of him...h-harming muggles, but I can’t confirm that myself. It was information we received from agents in the field. I never saw it m-myself, necessarily…” Her voice trailed off rather pathetically.

Draco finally turned around sharply in his chair and fixed her with a cold stare, his icy eyes flaming. “That’s because it was a lie!”

The Chief Warlock raised a hand to silence him. “Mr. Malfoy, control yourself, please.” He nodded at Hermione. “What happened when you found Draco Malfoy? Was there an altercation?”

“No, sir. He was cooperative.” She grimaced at Draco. He smirked at her in return, and it took everything in her not to jump down into the circle and wipe the smug look off his face. 

Another silence fell over the room as the wizengamot members jotted notes down on pieces of parchment. A few of them watched Hermione as she tried in vain to keep her slowly fading composure. The chamber was beginning to feel even more suffocating, and the hastily consumed coffee from earlier was making her heart beat fast in her chest. She fiddled with her bag some more .

Thankfully, the chief Warlock offered some respite. “Let’s have another recess-we’ll reconvene in 30 minutes. Ms. Granger, please wait outside of the courtroom for further instruction.”

Hermione nodded and turned to leave. 

She had gotten halfway up the short stone staircase when a loud blast came from the entrance. She was immediately thrown off her feet and landed hard on her side against the cold ground. A shower of pulverized stone rained down on her as shouts began to echo through the chamber. Her ears rang from the explosion, and when she ran her hands across her face, they came back bloody. The taste of acid bubbled up in her throat as panic coursed through her. 

The courtroom was in chaos- members of the wizengamot were drawing their wands and shouting to each other, though everything still sounded muffled to Hermione from the blast. It was hard to see anything with dust from the explosion enveloping the dark room. 

Another explosion came from the opposite side of the chamber, and once again stone rained down on them. Hermione whirled around to see at least 3 figures in dark cloaks against the far wall, hoods drawn up over their faces. She reached in her bag for her wand and felt it fly into her hand. With a flick, the debris was cleared from the air around her, offering a better view of the pandemonium before her. One of the hooded figures caught sight of her and raised it’s wand. She was quicker. “ **STUPEFY** !” The spell hit the figure directly in the chest and sent it falling down the stairs. A wizengamot witch ran by Hermione and gave her an incredulous look. “Ms. Granger, get yourself out of here!” 

Hermione ignored her and moved forward, holding her wand in front of her as she descended back down the staircase. She had to maneuver around the broken floor, stepping over large cracks and wreckage. Another blast came from somewhere behind her, but she was prepared this time and cast a shield spell before any debris hit her. She finally made it to the bottom, and looked over the stone wall to see Draco Malfoy on the ground with one of the hooded figures standing over him, wand pointed at his chest. 

“ _ Expelliarmus _ !” She screeched, and the wand fell from it’s hand. It started to lunge toward her, and her adrenaline surged. “ **_CONFRINGO_ ** !” The blast missed by an inch and hit the ground next to the attacker, causing them to be propelled backwards. Hermione jumped over the wall and into the circular pit, running over to where the figure had fallen. A binding spell was at the tip of her lips when she felt a cold hand grab her wrist. She looked down to see Draco looking at her with wide eyes. His face was covered with dust from the explosions. 

“Granger, please. Help me. Get me out of here.” She could tell it pained him to say it.

“Why should I?” She had to scream over the noise in the chamber. 

“They’ll kill me, Hermione.” He was wretched. The accused. The damned. Desperate. 

The hooded figure was beginning to stir from where he was laying a few feet away from them. Draco saw the movement and Hermione observed the genuine fear on his face with cold demeanor. 

Time slowed, and in that moment, Hermione felt like she was experiencing everything from outside of her body. Standing over Draco Malfoy while he begged at her feet-it was almost unbelievable. Her sense of morality was at war with conflicting thoughts of vengeance and selfishness. Who would she be if she helped him? More importantly...who would she be if she didn’t?

The hooded figure was standing up now, and before Hermione could cast a spell, it apparated away with a loud crack. She cursed, but then a thought occurred to her. Draco must have been thinking the same thing, because he looked up at her with shock. “They must have done something to the anti-appartition protections...if they can apparate in and out…”

Hermione nodded, and in that moment her mind was made up. Morality had won. “That means so can we. Draco, hold on to me.”

Draco stood quickly and once again grabbed a hold of her wrist. A red streak cut through the air, and it caught Hermione in the back just as the two of them disappeared from the room. The last thing she felt before blacking out was the coldness of Draco Malfoy’s hand on her wrist while the searing pain of the cruciatus curse wreaked havoc on her body.


	7. Part 2, Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plenty of Draco and Hermione interaction from here on out. Thanks for reading!

Darkness.

Cold, enveloping darkness. 

Her eyes open and directly above her is a small circle of light. She stifles a scream upon realization-she is at the bottom of a well, and judging by how small the circle is, it is a _very_ deep well. 

She sits upright and desperately searches the muddy ground for her wand with her hands. There is nothing-just her. Cold, wet, and muddy in the still dark. Her mind reels. She has been in dire situations before, but none felt quite as hopeless as this. A hot tear cuts down her cold cheek, and she shuffles over to the wall of the well to lean against the stone. She curls her body in on itself, grabbing her knees and pulling them up to her chin. The tears come faster now, and she ducks her head to let them fall into the mud. 

_Mudblood_. 

She thinks the word, but it seems to echo outside of her head as well, drifting through the air and rising up and out of the well.

She turns her head up to the light and her breath catches, for there is now the silhouette of a head above her. The only feature she can make out from so far away is the bright, shaggy hair. 

“ ** _MALFOY_!” **She screams, her voice haggard. 

An arm comes into view. Draco Malfoy points her own wand down at her. 

His voice, distorted and evil, carries down to her at the bottom of the well.

“ _Day of wrath, day of anger  
Will dissolve the world in ashes…”_

Before she can even open her mouth to scream, a green light erupts from the tip of her wand in Malfoy’s hand, and the world goes dark.

_

A pair of cold hands were shaking her lightly, and a soft voice muttered incomprehensibly above her head.

Her eyes snapped open to see Draco leaning over her with his face set in a frown. “I’ve got good news and I’ve got bad news, what do you want first?” 

The playfulness of his tone worried her. It was the kind of voice people used when trying to make light of an abysmal situation.

She sat up and looked around. They were at the edge of a forest, sitting in the shade of a large tree. Hermione started to stand, but a sharp pain forced her to sit back down. She looked down to see an alarmingly large gash running down her left leg. It started just above her knee and stopped right at her ankle. It wasn’t bleeding, but it looked ghastly all the same. Some magical healing had been done, but it was shoddy work, and she couldn’t help but be reminded of Frankenstein while looking down at herself. She looked at Malfoy in shock. “I’m assuming this is the bad news?”

He pursed his thin lips together. “Not quite. Uh…” He pulled something out from behind his back. It was Hermione’s wand, which was nearly snapped in half. It hung together by just a few slivers of wood, and if she hadn’t been so distraught, Hermione would have been amused by its likeness to Nearly Headless Nick. She grabbed it from his hands and held it tight against her chest, closed her eyes, and took a calming breath.

“What’s the good news, then?” She asked after a moment.

“We’re not dead.” 

She rolled her eyes behind her closed lids and fought down the urge to smack him. “Fantastic. Do we know where we are?”

“ _I_ don’t. I was hoping maybe you did.” He kicked at a rock on the ground while avoiding her eyes.

“What _happened_ , Malfoy?” Hermione asked acerbically. 

He sighed and plopped down heavily against the trunk of the tree. His long fingers ran through his already untidy hair, then were brought down to be clenched into tight fists in his lap. “You were hit by the Cruciatus curse right before we disappeared. It caused you to splinch a bit-” he motioned toward her mangled leg- “and I’m assuming that’s why we ended up in an unknown location. It was a messy affair.” He sounded neither sympathetic nor pleased. 

“And my wand?”

“Not sure how that happened. Maybe one of us fell on it on impact…”

“Seems suspicious.” Her eyes narrowed.

Malfoy’s gaze turned icy. “I didn’t break your fucking wand, Hermione. Why would I? This puts both of us at a disadvantage, doesn’t it?”

A dull sting ran up through her leg, causing her to wince. “Okay, how about my leg...why does it look like that?”

“I tried to heal it with your broken wand but obviously that didn’t work very well. Just be grateful that you didn’t see what it looked like before...” 

Her eyes widened in shock. “You tried to _heal me_?”

“You were bleeding out. Unconscious for almost an hour. You would have died- I figured I would need your help to get out of this mess, so I did what I had to do.” He looked away from her eyes and down to the ground, and Hermione observed a hint of embarrassment in the practiced facade.

“Indeed.” She looked around them again, trying to search the horizon for any sign of buildings or location markers. “Do you think we’re in England, at least?”

Malfoy shrugged. “I can’t imagine we’d be able to get too much farther than that in your condition.” 

“Mmm.” Hermione had already slipped deep in her own thoughts. Their situation was less than ideal, but not completely hopeless. Once they figured out where they were, it would be quick work getting back to...well, actually…

She had to consider what they had left behind, and what it meant for them when they returned. Clearly, Arthur Weasley and Kinglsey Shacklebolt had been right-something very odd was going on at the Ministry of Magic. Information of Draco’s trial had been leaked, just as his capture had been. Realistically, not many people outside of the Wizengamot or the DMLE should have known about the trial, considering the way it had been fast-tracked. And who had the cloaked terrorists been? In years past, Death Eaters would have been the obvious answer, but the truth was that Draco Malfoy was one of the last known Death Eaters at large in England. There simply wasn’t anybody left-especially considering that what had just happened would have taken extensive strategizing, and a large team of people to pull off. The anti-apparition enchantments being disabled was the most frightening aspect of it all, because that indicated that it wasn’t just an informant that was working in the Ministry...it was a double agent. Somebody who knew the secrets and security measures. Best case scenario, this was just an isolated event, and a few hot heads wanted to free Draco Malfoy as some kind of message. Worst case...well, Hermione didn’t want to think about those catastrophic implications. 

She heard a loud snap and looked up distractedly to see Draco waving his hand in front of her face. “Look alive, Granger. What are you thinking?”

She shifted in the grass. “A lot of different things. Mainly how we’re going to get out of here.” She turned her face up to the sky and noted the sun behind the clouds almost right above their heads. “At least we have one thing in our favor-plenty of daylight left.”

She slowly stood, gingerly putting weight on her injured leg. She could walk, but the pain radiated annoyingly up her limb. Draco stood too, and the movement seemed to flip a switch in her brain. Draco Malfoy. She was lost without a wand with Draco Malfoy. Her enemy who she’d just single-handedly help escape from the Ministry of Magic. Disgust rose in her throat. 

Draco noted the change in her eyes. “I know what you’re thinking. I’m not telling you to trust me, but I’m suggesting it. I don’t want to be on this _ridiculous_ adventure with you any more than you do with me,” the corner of his mouth raised just a faction of an inch in a subtle snarl, “but it’s a necessary burden.”

Hermione said nothing, and instead occupied herself with brushing the dirt off her skirt. She had dressed up professionally for the trial-a dark blue button-down shirt with a black pencil skirt hitting just below the knee. If only she had the foresight to bring an extra pair of jeans with her. Her shoes were decent at least-a pair of black loafers with a soft sole. Easy to walk in, thank gods. 

“Let’s start walking.” Hermione said plainly. She needed to think but staying where they were any longer was pointless. “You’re lucky my wand isn’t working; I would have at least tied your hands together or something. Just walk in front of me and don’t try anything.” Draco rolled his eyes. “Should we go through the forest, or…” she trailed off.

“The forest will offer us cover, but we have no idea how far on it goes. We could be right around the corner from a town and not know it if we went through.”

Hermione was stuck on the former part of his statement. “Cover? Do you think we’ll need it?”

Draco’s eyes slipped slowly to hers, and the deadness of them scared her. His eyes were naturally a very light blue-almost bordering on silver-but there was a dark quality about them. Always had been. “Possibly,” was all he answered. 

And with that, they decided to take the forest route. They had walked a few meters past the tree line when Draco turned to her. “Don’t forget your bag.” He pointed back behind her at the ground.

The witch whirled around, hope springing in her chest at the sight of the small beaded bag amongst the foliage. She hobbled over and snatched it up, rummaging through it with fervor. “Of course! Maybe I have something in here that would help us…” She felt around, her arm now elbow deep in the small bag. Draco looked on with curiosity. A few moments passed as she inspected the contents. There was some wizarding money, some muggle money, hair ties, a few bags of almonds...her hand brushed against something soft and she gasped, pulling out the invisibility cloak. “Well, this _might_ come in handy.”

Draco shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “Let’s hope we don’t need it.”

Hermione suddenly remembered his face back in the trial chamber at the DMLE. How scared he had looked, begging her for help. Begging her to save his life. A chill ran through her body. This wasn’t the time to think about that.

“Lost in the wilderness with one third of a wand and an invisibility cloak. Unbelievable.” She heatedly stuck the shiny fabric back in her bag and followed Draco as he trudged on in front of her.

A few quiet moments passed before the blonde turned his head halfway to glance at her. “Could be worse-we could have no wand and no invisibility cloak.”

She fixed him with a deadly stare. “I prefer to walk in silence, if you don’t mind.”

_

They went on without stopping for a few hours before Hermione had to admit defeat and sit to rest her leg for a few minutes. The pain was dull, but it was consistent and unyielding. The witch plopped down into the soft underbrush and once again propped her back up against a tree trunk. Draco walked on for a few yards before realizing she had stopped. He turned to see her and stood there for a few silent moments before he, too, sat down against a tree. The watched each other cautiously.

Hermione was the first to break the silence. She pulled out her wand and muttered, “ _point me_.” The battered wand, now tied together haphazardly with on of the hair ties, spun on her palm wildly for a few turns, then slowed down and stopped, its tip pointed directly at Draco. He looked on quizzically.

“It’s supposed to point north, but I don’t know how well we can trust it right now. Just curious,” she offered.

“Interesting spell. Never seen it before,” Draco said.

She smiled despite herself. “I invented it.”

“Oh.” The blonde furrowed his brow and looked to the ground. That was about as good of a compliment that Hermione would expect from him. “Do you have anything to eat in that odd bag of yours?”

Hermione reached in the bag, grabbed a bag of almonds, and tossed them over to him without a word. She then rested her head against the trunk of the tree, thankful that her wild hair provided a bit of cushioning. Another lengthy silence enveloped them, and the witch found herself nodding off as she listened to the breeze blow through the canopy above their heads. As her eyelids drifted closed, the last thing she saw was Draco watching her, a deep frown plastered on his face.

Then just as suddenly, she awakened to the sound of distant shouting. She stood at alert, noting how much lower the sun had gotten in the sky above them. From what it seemed, they only had an hour or so of sunlight left. She heard the shouting again, closer now, and looked for Draco. He was lying on his side in the grass a few yards away from her, sleeping peacefully. She jogged over and shook his shoulders. When his eyes opened, he looked shocked to see her, and physically cringed away from her touch. This time, he heard the shouting. He bolted upright and looked around them. “What is that?”

“I’ve no idea. But I don’t think we should be here when they catch up, don’t you think? Let’s go.”

They took off again at a faster gait, careful not to crunch too much underfoot. The voices were getting louder now, and they came from multiple directions. Off in the woods to their left, a yellow glow could be seen momentarily. They looked at each other. “Magic,” they said in unison. And with that, they took off into a run in the opposite direction of the spell.

Their pursuers must have heard, because the shouting got louder, and individual voices could now be heard. “Over there!” one said, “I heard them!”

They ran past a large, fallen down tree trunk, and Hermione threw out an arm to stop Draco. “Get down beside that. Quickly.”

He did as he was told, squatting low next to the hollow tree. Hermione stooped next to him and grabbed the cloak out of her bag, wasting no time to throw it over them both. It cascaded over their shoulders softly as they tried to slow their breathing.

This was the closest Hermione had been to him, probably ever. Shoulder to shoulder, with their upper thighs jammed together. His body was warm from their sprinting, and it felt as if it was burning through her skin. He turned his head to look at her, and her breath caught at his eyes being so close to hers. Chest heaving, he brought a finger up his lips in a shushing motion. She watched where his flushed lips touched the ivory skin of the long digit and felt a subtle shiver shake her.

Draco leaned in even closer, putting his mouth right up to her ear to whisper without any chance of detection. “What if it’s some of your friends out looking for you? What if it’s the good guys?” One of his lips brushed against the shell of her ear, just barely, when he spoke. Hermione caught a nervous gasp from escaping.

His question echoed in her mind. _What if it’s the good guys?_ Did he really consider her and her friends as the good guys?

She turned to whisper back, careful not to touch him even more. “Let’s stay here and wait till they go past to find out. But I don’t recognize any of the voices…” She tried to ignore the overwhelming manly scent radiating from his skin.

It only took a few moments for the voices to catch up. Soon they heard a few different pairs of feet crashing through the underbrush, and Hermione and Draco glanced at each other briefly before turning around as carefully as possible under the cloak to get a better view of the approaching group.

It was three different people, all wearing the same cloaks as the figures at the trial. Hermione’s heart sank, and she felt her pulse quicken beneath her skin as they moved through the trees. She squinted in an attempt to make out any facial features as they walked by, but they weren’t close enough to see much in the dim light of the fading sunlight. Just faces shrouded in shadow.

The three figures moved on through the trees, wands aloft. The invisibility cloak had done its job perfectly. The two beneath it waited silently as the search party got further and further away, the crunch of their footsteps fading slowly. Hermione let a long breath.

As soon as the figures were fully out of sight, Draco moved as if to take off the cloak.

“Wait,” Hermione said. “I have a better idea.”

“A better idea than getting out from under this suffocating cloak? I doubt it.” Draco said.

“Hear me out. We follow behind them. From a distance, obviously. This might be our best chance to find our way out of here. They’ll eventually have to go back to where they came from, right?”

“Yes, but they could just disapparate at any time. There’s no guarantee they’ll lead us to anywhere useful. We could just end up stuck further in the woods.”

Hermione thought on it. He had a point. But… “From my experience doing search patrols, there’s usually a meeting point for everyone to return to before going back to home base. A rendezvous point with an obvious land marker, or a building with decent cover. No matter where they go, it might help us orient ourselves.”

The wizard narrowed his eyes at her before responding. “Well I suppose I don’t actually have a say in the matter, correct? I’m the captured criminal here. You’re the one calling the shots. I don’t have much choice but to do what you want.”

She scoffed. “Of course you have a choice.”

His eyebrows raised slightly. “I suppose you’re right. I could either do as you say, _or_ I could kill you and take your things.”

Hermione’s stomach dipped, but his expression wasn’t of malice. A smirk played at his lips. She realized that he was being sarcastic, maybe even playful. How odd.

“Very funny. Assuming you _could_ kill me. I’m a lot scrappier than I look.”

The smallest chuckle came from him. “I’m sure you are.”

Hermione didn’t have a witty enough response, and instead nervously readjusted the cloak around them. “Come on then, let’s go.” They took off in the direction the figures had gone, walking awkwardly beside each other, hips knocking together every few steps. “And wipe that smile off your face,” she added quietly.

_

They caught up to the group, catching sight of the three dark cloaks a considerable distance away. As the sun got lower and the search party had to cast _lumos_ to see in the dark, it became even easier to track them. Hermione and Draco followed the bobbing blue lights in front of them, keeping their steps soft. The two had been walking for almost an hour before Draco cleared his throat.

“What do you think will happen to me when we get back?”

Hermione was taken back by the blunt question. She was beginning to realize that Draco was like this-very unpredictable in his words and actions.

“As in what kind of sentence I think you’ll get?” She felt him nod beside her. “With any luck, life in Azkaban.”

“You really hate me, don’t you?”

“I think you’ve done horrible, unforgivable things. And it's my personal philosophy that people who do horrible, unforgivable things deserve to be severely punished for them. It’s as simple as that. What I think of you as a person plays no part in it. Though I suppose I _do_ hate you in some capacity.” Hermione said.

Draco stiffened. “You know I never actually killed anyone, right?” His voice was so quiet. So measured.

“Even _if_ you didn’t, your actions and involvement with Voldemort lead to the deaths of many.”

“A butterfly flaps its wings, and 2,000 miles away a monsoon destroys a coastal town.”

Hermione turned to face him, her face set in a scowl of contempt. “Are you seriously trying to use chaos theory to justify your involvement in evil?”

“Maybe. Or- I don’t know, I’m just saying that there are minuscule variables to every situation. Most we can’t control.” His tone suggested that he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince Hermione. “Circumstances so complex that it’s impossible to choose the right decision.”

“I’d like to think that even _you_ can understand the basic idea of good and evil. There’s always a right decision- _good_. Good over evil. It’s that simple. Did you honestly believe Voldemort was good? That what you all were doing was the _right_ thing? A toddler has a better sense of morality than that. You should be embarrassed.”

She was knowingly trying to start a fight, mostly as an attempt to get rid of some of her pent up anger and frustration. She waited for him to spit back some scathing reply, but Draco took in a big breath and let it out slowly before answering.

“I thought I made the right choice at the end. Getting away from them. Maybe not _good_ , necessarily, but a step in the right direction.”

They had stopped walking now and were standing still under the cloak in the darkness. Hermione looked sideways at his profile as he gazed ahead. “You’re still sticking with that story?”

“It’s not a story, Granger. It’s the truth.” His eyes slid over to meet hers, watching her expression from behind his overgrown blonde hair. “I don’t know what I can do to convince you.”

“Would you take veritaserum?” The potion was, unfortunately, not allowed in the use of court, but it didn’t hurt to ask.

“I would,” he said flatly.

Hermione wondered if he had been trained to resist the effects of the potion. More likely than not. “Hmm,” was all she replied.

She had to admit that despite everything, Draco Malfoy really had been on his best behavior. Excluding his lousy attitude and his generally unpleasant disposition, he hadn’t stepped a foot out of line. How strange to think of herself in this situation-stuck with Draco Malfoy and not feeling in danger. Well, not from him, anyway. There was plenty else to be worried about. She returned her attention to the three blue lights ahead of them. “Wait. I think they’ve stopped.”

Sure enough, any movement from ahead of them had ceased. As they watched, four more blue lights popped into existence to join the others. Raised voices cut through the stillness. The obvious sound of an argument.

“Looks as if they met up with the rest of the group,” Hermione whispered. “Let’s get closer.”

They inched closer together under the cloak and slowly made their way forward. The forest seemed to get brighter as they moved in. It was moonlight-they were approaching some kind of clearing, or possibly even…

“We’ve made it to the edge! That’s the tree line-it’s got to be,” Draco hissed. Sure enough, there it was. About fifty yards ahead of them, the dense trees stopped, giving way to a large meadow of overgrown grass. 

The pair hung back and waited patiently as the seven cloaked figures continued to argue. Their harsh, angry whispers cut through the still air. A scary thought occurred to Hermione. “How do you think they knew to find us here? Surely it wasn’t just luck or happenstance?” 

“I’ve been wondering that myself...” Draco replied thoughtfully. “We can worry about that later. Look alive, they’re on the move.”

 _We_.

The figures ahead of them started to dissaparate one by one, the aftershock of their magic carrying through the forest and shaking the limbs of the trees around them. Once all seven were gone, Draco threw the cloak off and stretched his arms overhead dramatically. “Finally.” 

They made their way to the edge of the forest. Sure enough, off in the distance they spotted some light pollution from what was presumably a decently sized city. The sweet feeling of relief ran through Hermione, and for a moment she had the urge to hug the wizard next to her. She had to remind herself that he wasn’t Harry or Ron, and they hadn’t just succeeded in pulling off a risky mission. She was still in treacherous company, and there was plenty of work to be done. 

They stepped all the way into the clearing and gazed up at the starry sky above them. Draco walked ahead for a few yards, then stopped abruptly and turned back to Hermione with a blank expression. “How is your leg holding up? Think you need to rest before we continue?”

She hadn’t even thought of it until he brought it up. Perhaps he did a better job healing than she thought. “No, let’s keep going.”

“ _Keep going where?_ ” The sinister voice cut through the night from behind them. Draco’s eyes widened as he looked past Hermione’s shoulder.

She spun around, heart hammering in her chest. A tall, lanky man stood at the tree line. Even in the moonlight, Hermione could make out the abnormal quality to his limbs, and the excess of body hair. _Werewolf_. 

She looked to the moon. Not full, but damn near it. He wouldn’t be able to fully transform, but he was still incredibly dangerous. Stronger than them. Much quicker.

“I’ve been tracking your scent for a while now. That’s an awfully interesting cloak you’ve got there-no wonder I couldn’t find you.” She could hear the sneer in his voice. 

The man shifted slightly, his body settling into a stooped position with one leg in front of the other. Ready to attack.

“Granger,” Draco called out calmly from behind her. “Get down. Now.”

Hermione hit the ground just as Draco Malfoy ran past her, his tall frame moving through the night like a shadow. With a vicious snarl that echoed around the clearing, the werewolf posed himself momentarily before jumping. The two bodies collided as a scream cut through the night.


End file.
